The Conquistador
by TheGraveyardChild
Summary: Before there was kindness in the Spaniard Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, there was only cruelty. He was the dread pirate known as the Conquistador. He pillaged the seven seas and showed mercy to no one. After taking the Vargas brothers prisoner the Captain is faced with decisions that will send him through spiraling changes and may very well lose his life.
1. Chapter 1

_Antonio_

In a sense, everyone was alike. Every human being that walked planet Earth had its own similarities. These humans were similar in the way they looked even though their species varied in race. Just as there were some commonalities, there were differences. Some were larger than others, and some were so minuscule that they were barely noticeable. In the case of a Spanish pirate captain and his Italian prisoner, the differences seemed larger than life when in reality, they were nearly nonexistent.

Stories usually start with a scene, and just as other do, so shall this one. There was a ship rocking on the waves of the Celtic Sea. It had been sitting stationary off the coast of Britain for some time, merely displacing water. The crew that resided on the decks worked tirelessly, cleaning the deck to their captain's standards. They did not dare stop even though the burning sun beat down on their backs. They all feared the same man. They all feared the punishments he was rumored to inflict. They didn't dare risk getting caught slacking off when they were supposed to be scrubbing his beloved vessel. The ship was the Captain's pride and joy. Leaving her in disrepair was like disrespecting the Captain in the worst possible way.

The Captain himself was nicknamed _Mad Man Capitaine_ by his crew. A long time friend of his had started it some ways back when he first became a captain. The crew never breathed a word of this nickname in his presence. They acted as if he had no clue of its existence, but he had found out the very first day it uttered. Still, the name had stuck. He wasn't crazy, no. His ideas were just a little... eccentric. He loved a challenge. He craved death-defying odds. He engrossed himself in it all, and in turn, he engrossed his crew in the same way. But that was just the way of Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. No one aside from a select few on deck knew him as that, though. He was simply known as Captain Fernandez, nothing more. The civilians that feared to speak his name gave the Captain a more fitting title. He preferred the name the people had given him. He thought of himself just as they did. He was a Conquistador. Carriedo conquered. He took what he wanted. It may not have been for Spain as a whole and for their ignorant king, but it was for something. His cause may have at one time been noble, but those intentions had long since disappeared. Anyone who looked at him now saw that his motives were for his own greed and pleasure. And Antonio had not a single regret.

That is until the Italian entered his life.

Like any other day, Antonio walked upon the deck of his ship. A red strip of fabric was tied around his forehead beneath his long, curling brown hair to catch the sweat that threatened to pour down from his brow. The length of his curls were tied back in a low ponytail at the base of his neck. His bangs were either flattened beneath the fabric or hanging freely on top of it. Despite being a seldom religious man, a rosary was strung into the red fabric. It was a delicate object of precious rubies, sapphires, diamonds, and emeralds. He never wore a hat unless he was sailing his ship himself or making an attempt to look fearsome and presentable. An arrangement of earrings hung from his cartilage all the way down to the lobe of his right ear. He was garbed in a plain white shirt that remained untied at the neck, black pants that fell just inches below his knees, and black boots that shined in the sun. On his hands, he wore an assortment of different rings, whose settings held more precious stones. A bottle of Spanish wine resided in his hand. It was half empty; he drank the majority earlier that morning. To complete his attire, he wore a long red coat. It was bright, like a rose. The fastenings were gold as well as was the brocade and stitching. It was his signature, the red, like the flag he cast when he was preparing to attack.

The ship itself was a beautiful vessel made of oak and sapele. Three masts stood tall and proud, white sails billowing in the wind. At the front of the ship, just below the bowsprit, was a beautiful figurehead of a young girl. She was not pornographic like most figureheads were. She was elegant and innocent. In her outstretched hand, she held a lantern. She acted as the beacon that led the _Wandering Anna Maria_ through the darkness. _She_ was _Anna Maria._ She could use a bit of paint, but her beauty held strong. Some time had passed since the ship was built, back when his intentions as a pirate were still pure. It had been an expensive venture, but he had managed with the money he had scraped together under the command of his former captain. He may have stolen said funds from the aforementioned captain and raised all hell with him, but that was a story for another time. He had been successfully sailing the _Wandering Anna Maria_ for six years.

The Captain meandered across the deck, watching his crew clean. They gave him swift greetings as he passed, only pausing for a moment before turning back to their work. He did not respond with words. He only provided a brief nod. Antonio remained on deck for a moment longer before heading below deck towards the brig. Down below was his prisoner, his Italian. He met him Britain. Antonio had neither intended nor expected to take along extra cargo during his last visit to the city, but unexpected circumstances arose that peaked his interest. He remembered it like it were yesterday. It was yesterday.

 _The Captain walked down the cobbled streets of the town. These roads were a maze of twists and turns, but he knew them well enough. He had spent many summers there with his two friends. Oh, the havoc they wreaked racing up and down these streets. They stole from the open air markets, crashed parties of diplomats, and got drunk off of the shit British wine. That was many years ago, but not much had changed since then. The road that he took was booming with merchants and consumers. It was a fantastic sight full of hundreds of colors and scents. Antonio, however,w as not there to reminisce and sight see. He was there to settle a few deals, sort out a few new affairs, and possibly spend a night at the inn with a few of the local girls. That was all. He could not stay long and risk exposure. As a pirate captain, he was a wanted man in many countries. Britain was one of them. It was a risk docking his small skiff that he had taken from his ship, but the odds of capture did not daunt him. He was fearless._

 _People swarmed the narrow road, so he took a left down a familiar, less-crowded, open pavilion. A few people milled about. A few painters had set up shop. One was what seemed to be a set of twins. Antonio let a small smile briefly cross his lips before he walked over to a vendor who was selling food. He purchased some cuisine, but he wasn't sure what it was. It tasted good, though. He also managed to snag a bottle of wine from an Italian vendor. It was strange that the old man had set up shop in Britain, but he did not care. Wine was wine, and anything was better than the local brew. And now he was just waiting. His contact for business had been in Britain had to show sooner rather than later. If not, then his dangerous trip was all in vain. Just as Antonio was about to leave the cobbled square, his contact came._

Allistor _. He only provided a first name, never a last. He was only known as Allistor. He casually stopped beside the Captain and leaned against the wall. A cigarette sat between his index and middle fingers. He took a long drag off of it before speaking._

 _"Anthony?" Allistor asked. He used the English variety of his name, not that the Spaniard paid any concern._

 _The Captain gave a brief nod and held out a bag of coins to the man beside him. He kept his actions discreet. "For the information you provided me that led me to the treasures in the Caribbean. The rest will come upon visit to my ship. That is all I can risk carrying at the moment," he said softly. His words were in Spanish. He wanted to risk no one overhearing their conversation._

 _"Of course. I do have another business venture if you'd like to hear," he said. His words were in his native Gaelic tongue, which Antonio had taken the time to learn some years back. The Spaniard nodded to Allistor and awaited his response. "There is a wealthy man here on business with his two grandsons. They're renting a house in town for the next few months." Allistor paused to point out the old man selling the Italian wine. Antonio discreetly hid his stolen bottle behind his back after his emerald eyes made contact with the man. "The two boys are the only heirs to his wine industry and his fortune. Take them hostage. Hold them for ransom. Your earnings will make you a king."_

 _"Who are these boys?"_

 _Allistor subtly glanced across the square to the set of twins that were painting._

 _"Their background?" the Captain asked. He looked closer at the boys. One was smiling, and the other wore a sour expression._

 _"The younger one is the happier one. He has been living with his grandfather since he was a child. He is afraid of most everything. Won't hurt a fly. The older one is the grumpy one. He is said to have raised himself on the streets before coming to stay with his grandfather about a year ago. A lonely and irritable child. I don't know much about him, so I couldn't tell you what harm he could cause. I wouldn't underestimate him until you can size him up," the Scot said._

 _Antonio weighed his options. Taking both would mean an additional two mouths to feed on his ship. When times grew rough on the seven seas, food became scarce. Those two extra mouths could mean life or death, but the reward at the end of the road seemed far greater than the risk. "Which one does their grandfather love more?"_

 _"It seems to be the one that smiles. The old man dotes on the boy left and right. The older of the two just seems to be a real pain in the ass unless he's talking to the local ladies. His charm soars right there. Take one, take both. I just know that a very high price will be paid for their safe return."_

 _The Spaniard nodded. "Their names?"_

 _"Vargas. Lovino and Feliciano Vargas."_

Antonio was nearly at the brig. He had stopped in the kitchens along the way and acquired a meager meal of a tomato and half of a loaf of bread. He also had a bottle of Vargas wine. He rarely was this kind to prisoners. The boy was lucky to get a single one of his tomatoes. Fresh food was hard to come by whilst sailing the seven seas, so anytime Antonio docked anywhere, he grabbed a basket of tomatoes. He loved the fruit, and it was a treat when he could take them with him. It was rare that he actually shared with his first mate, let alone a prisoner. But his prisoner needed something to keep him alive.

The Spaniard walked down the steps to the brig slowly, his gaze cold and calculating. One crew member resided down below. He couldn't quite remember his name. He, however, gestured for the man to leave. He did so without hesitation, leaving the Captain and his Italian prisoner alone.

Antonio let his gaze gloss over the boy. He was skinny yet muscular. His face was narrow and his eyes a strange mix of amber and green. His hair was a wavy, dark brown, matted with grease. One curl, however, did not seem to want to lie flat. Such an oddity. Overall, the Italian was an attractive sight to a man stranded at sea for many months at a time. The girls back in Italy must have been fond of him. He'd have to keep the crew away from him...

"Eat, no?" Antonio asked, holding out the tomato and bread. He took a swig of the wine before holding that out, too. The Italian remained quiet and did not move. "I am neither a patient nor a kind man. Rather than take what I have to offer you, you treat me with disrespect. You can either eat the meal I've provided or wait for a few days until I'm particularly generous once more, sí?"

The boy slowly moved and took the food into his tanned hands. Antonio noted that he left the wine in the Captain's outstretched hand. He actually looked upon the drink with disgust. He instead took a small bite of the tomato, his gaze far away from the Spaniard.

"What is your name?" he asked although he knew the answer. He wanted to give the boy a certain semblance of control. Again, the Captain was met with silence. "Answer me. What... is... your... name?"

"Lovino Vargas," the boy said, his expression growing irate. He did not seem like being treated like a child. Well, if he was going to act like a child, then he was going to be treated as such.

"How old are you?"

A pause and a puzzled expression. From the looks of it, the boy didn't seem to recall his own age. And then a simple, "Eighteen."

Antonio nodded briefly. This boy was young but old enough to marry. He saw no ring on his finger. There was no marriage to speak of, and from his personality, he could assume that there was no prior engagement, either. He was only eighteen, and there was a ten-year gap between Lovino and himself. "You're young, and by the look of you, you're strong, no? I will give you three options that you will choose between. One, you can stay here in this cell until your grandfather buys your freedom. Two, you can work with my crew on deck. Or, three, you can be my cabin boy. The latter of the three are to be decided on how well I can trust that you won't run or stab me in the back first chance you get."

The Italian was quiet at first. He seemed to be contemplating his options. "What the fuck did you do with my brother, Spanish Bastard?"

Antonio didn't let the surprise register on his features. This kid certainly had a mouth. "Him? He's an enjoyable little fellow. He's with the cook, keeping him company."

The boy snorted and mumbled something under his breath that the Spaniard didn't quite catch.

"Speak up boy," the Captain said with a bit of lazy annoyance.

"I said 'it's like him to smooth talk his way out of sit with that innocent little smile of his.'"

"Oh. Yes. He's very good at that. I actually find it annoying."

Lovino snorted again. This time he seemed more amused rather than pissed off.

"I should have stayed in _Napoli_. Would have made my life a hell of a lot easier."

"Ah... The southern end of Italy, no? Sí, that probably would have been smart, but you instead came to the call of your grandfather and brother. You went North. I don't think he even knows you're here right now. Undoubtedly he knows about your brother."

The amusement dropped from his features. Lovino flushed a bright crimson and took another swift bite of the tomato.

"Not happy, are we, mi tomate?"

The flush on the Italian's features deepened. "Oh, I'm just peachy. You've kidnapped me and locked me in a cage. I just love being treated like an animal," the boy snapped, sarcasm literally dripping off of each word. "And don't call me your damned tomato."

"There are so much worse things that I could do to you compared to locking you in a cage. You can preach your speech on equality of man all you'd like, but there is a difference between the pair of us. I am a captain, and you are not. You are a prisoner on _my_ ship."

"Yeah. Sure. A captain. You're a pirate. A captain would have honor. You clearly lack that."

"You wound me with your statements that point out the obvious."

"They basically let anyone with a ship call themselves a captain. You're just a drunk pirate with a pretty boat that's either stolen or has been paid for with stolen funds."

The kid pretty much hit it on the head. But did he really think that _Anna Maria_ was pretty? Antonio was flattered. But that was beside the point. "I think of myself not as a pirate, but as a Conquistador. I take what I wish. I conquer it. I have taken you, but have yet to conquer."

"Conquer? How could you conquer me, Spanish Bastard?"

"Break your will, make you bleed, take everything away that you keep to yourself. Your pride, your dignity," he said. "Tell me, mi hijo, another man has never touched you before, no?"

Lovino's eyes widened at the hidden implications of the question. "Spanish Bastard, you wouldn't dare."

"Now that I know you're against the idea, I might have to try," Antonio said softly. He reached his ring-covered hand through the bars of the cell and took hold of Lovino's chin. "Your emotions are quite delicious. I will enjoy conquering you. Take care, _Lovinito._ "

The Captain released the boy's chin and stood. He left his canteen of water that he carried on his person by the bars for Lovino and took the wine with him. He stalked away and went up the stairs with purpose and swagger in his step. He finally had a new project to keep him busy whilst on this business venture. His crew was working the same that they had been when he last checked. His ship was tidy and beautiful. His prisoners were under control. Life seemed easy for the Captain and his crew. Far too easy.

And as irony would have it, that was about to end.

It was that British flag flying off the mast of a British ship that made his happy little world come crashing down.

And it wasn't just any ship. It was the _Lady_ fucking _Beth_.

Antonio cursed. Nothing ever seemed to be easy for him. He did not hesitate on the thought, though. He merely began to shout orders at his crew. He knew for a fact that they were coming closer to his beloved _Wandering Anna Maria_. He knew they were hostile, too. That ship was the _Lady Beth_. It was under the command of none other than _Alfred_ _fucking Jones._ He had every reason to hunt Antonio. That was his job. He hunted pirates for the crown. There were two most possible for this sudden appearance. One, he was coming to arrest him for piracy. Two, he was coming to retrieve his prisoners. With or without payment, he did not know. Either way, it was a hostile ship. It was too soon for his message to have reached the grandfather of the boys. He had sent it earlier that morning with Allistor after he and his most trusted crew member, his first mate Bella, took the prisoners...

 _Antonio walked the shadows carefully. His blonde companion walked behind him. Their goal was simple. Take the two boys quietly and without alerting any resident of the home. The Vargas family was staying in a large house in town, one they were simply renting for the time being. From the house, they had to get the boys to the horse and carriage they had stolen and then back to the coast where their small skiff was docked. From the skiff, they had to make their way back to the ship. He and Bella were lucky the waters were calm that night. Turbulent seas and winds would be problematic._

 _They now stood in the wake of the house rear side of the house. They only remained there for a moment. They had no time to waste. Their point of entry was the servant's door on the first floor. In the dead of night, when the residents were asleep, that was a manageable task. It may have been dark and silent, but the Captain was sober and alert. They were able to locate the door easily. Antonio knelt down in front of it and pulled a lockpick from the pocket of his red coat. He inserted the pick into the lock and moved it around a bit until he heard a_ click. _They were in. Antonio gestured for Bella to enter and mouthed 'Ladies first."_

 _The house was just as dark and silent as the outside. The Captain shut the door gently and crept along the floor towards the stairs that led to the main level of the house. Before their venture inside, Antonio had paid off one of the scullery maids. He was given a full rundown of the house by the girl. It had two or three floors, and the kitchen was one of the many on the lowest. He wasn't concerned with the kitchen. He was concerned with the bedrooms which were located at the top of the house._

 _The main floor was absolutely breathtaking. The ceilings were high and vaulted. The windows were draped in crimson silks. Vases and pottery line the shelves. Even though he was only at the residence temporarily, the master of the house, Augustus Vargas, had exquisite and expensive taste. Antonio dared not touch a thing. This was not a bedlam job. He wasn't stealing artifacts from the home, no matter how valuable they were. He was merely taking his captives and slipping out silently as if he were never there._

 _The pair crept up the next flight of stairs onto the top most floor of the manor. They were faced with a hall with three doors. One on the left, one of the right, and a double, solid wood French door at the end. Augustus had imported_ doors _from_ France. _He had such expensive tastes... It was sad that he did not have better security and servants in his home. He had allowed two pirates into his home to kidnap his grandsons._

 _Antonio gestured to the door on the right and motion for Bella to go inside. The woman gave a curt nod and slipped through the door. The Captain, on the other hand, crept towards the double doors. He unsheathed his sword and gently slid it through the handles. It was a pity to lose such a beautiful blade, but he could afford another at a later date. If something was to go awry, the Augustus could not come to the aid of his grandsons. They were to be entirely at the mercy of the Captain._

The Ship was less than two leagues away and gaining. His adrenaline pushed away any of the deliria that his drinking had brought and sent it from his veins. He was alert. Antonio did not hesitate. He was also a pirate. It was his nature to come to this decision. They were going to attack without a second thought or question. There was only one ship, and it hadn't risen a white flag of peace and surrender. They were probably outnumbered in quality weaponry, yes, but they had an advantage. As pirates, they played dirty. They were taking this ship over. Antonio yelled his orders: get your swords, get your guns, prepare yourself and this ship for battle. His voice thunder and his orders were followed. He had one last thing he needed to do before following them himself. He needed to get the younger grandson of Augustus Vargas down below. Sure, it would break the kid's happy mood to be behind bars, but Antonio had no choice. He couldn't risk anything. These boys were precious cargo. The Captain hurried across the deck towards the galley. He flew down the steps and burst inside.

"Vargas!" he called.

Antonio then stopped. The youngest Vargas was sitting in the corner, his arms wrapped around his legs. Tears streaked his face, and he was mumbling something rapidly in Italian. Bella sat beside him, her hand on his head. She was cooing to the boy in broken Italian. It was like Bella, with her motherly nature, to come to the aid of the boy. She had always been a step ahead of him when it came to those sort of matters. He must have heard the commotion on deck. He was a child. He seemed to be petrified. He had to be - what? - the same age as his brother, if not younger. Upon noticing the Captain, the Italian wiped his eyes and nose roughly with his sleeves.

"You will be okay, no?" Antonio asked. It was the closest he could come to compassion towards the kid. "Bella, we are on the verge of attack. I need him down below with his brother where he will be safe." When neither moved, Antonio groaned inwardly. "Get the lead from your boots, Bella!" The Captain pulled the Italian to his feet roughly and shoved him towards the next flight of stairs down. Bella stood and followed the boy down below.

It was then that Antonio's swift flying feet brought him to the helm of the ship. He pulled his spyglass from his hip and peered into it. The ship was undeniably British. He had no doubt that it was one of the King's own unless the _Lady Beth_ had suddenly switched it allegiances. They were going toe to toe with the best ship in the Royal Navy. It was definitely going to be a long day.

Antonio let out a sad sigh. It was tragic to watch the beautiful ship fall and sink to the depths of the sea. The British fought valiantly and bravely. The _Lady Beth_ and her crew were the pride and joy of the British Royal Navy. It was a difficult battle against them. The crew of the _Wandering Anna Maria_ gave it their all. They did everything they could... And in the end, the British were conquered. The _Wandering Anna Maria_ was intact. The ship had survived with minimal damage to the woodwork and sails. The beautiful carving at the bowsprit was a little worse for wear, but it was nothing a bit of paint couldn't fix. The Captain was pleased. His crew had performed well under the pressure and heavy bombardment of the British Navy Men. Only two prisoners were taken.

First was an Austrian Musician that was formerly the prisoner of the British Navy. He was interesting, to say the least. Interesting and pompous and entirely irritating. He challenged Antonio's patience as well as his authority. He seriously loved to complain about the manners of the crew as well. That is why he landed his pompous rear in the brig with the Italian brothers for the rest of the evening. The musician couldn't be near the Captain. His temper couldn't hold that long. He knew he had to get rid of him quickly. Hell, he could be a present to Gilbert. The man always said he needed a woman on board to entertain him. The musician was close enough.

His second prisoner was rather special. It was the captain of the _Lady Beth_ himself. It was Alfred F. Jones. He was a loud one, that former captain. Loud and annoying. Upon capture, he proudly proclaimed that he would indeed 'escape the clutches of this terrible and unlawful pirate before bringing him to the justice of King Henry VIII.' For that speech, he landed himself down below as well, but he was locked in his own individual cell, far from the others. Antonio didn't trust the Brit. He knew Jones was a resourceful man. He'd try his hand at escape the first chance he got. Antonio had gone as far as to chain him to the wall. He wasn't taking any fucking chances with this man.

In the meantime, the rest of his prisoners were staying down in the brig until morning. The eldest Italian could possibly stay longer than the younger. He didn't want to deal with his ornery bullshit just yet.

The sun had set hours ago, and they had long since sailed away from the wreck of the _Lady Beth_. Antonio had been sitting on deck, watching the waves, the ocean, his crew since the battle. He was far more perceptive than usual. He hadn't a drink since before the battle. He was as sober as he'd be for a long while. The moon was now high in the sky. The night itself was brisk. A cold breeze blew on the British seas, one that penetrated the entire ship. Only the night watch and the Captain himself remained awake to suffer through the cold in consciousness. It left Antonio alone to his thoughts, to his interests. No one was there to pry into his business, to watch his actions.

Antonio found himself rising from his seated position and gravitating toward the brig as his thoughts raced towards that angry Italian. He had seldom interacted with Lovino Vargas, but his interest was already peaked. He was told not to underestimate the boy, and all he wanted to do was see what he was capable of. He slowly made his way down, his emerald eyes scanning the dark rooms and holds below deck. There was only the light of the full moon to guide him, and even that was scarce as he delved deeper into cold depths of the ship. The Spaniard pulled his red coat tighter around himself and kept on his way. Once downstairs, Antonio looked upon his sleeping prisoners. The eldest Italian lay in the glow of the moonlight, his arms wrapped tightly around his legs. He had given his blanket to his brother before they had fallen asleep. The Austrian in the cell beside him had his own blanket. Even the Brit had the protection of his Navy garb and a blanket. The group, however, was short one. Lovino was the only one without the warmth of a blanket or coat. He wore only a dirty, white cotton shirt, black pants, and boots. He had no coat, nothing to protect him from the sudden chill of the night. This was all Antonio had allowed him to take that night.

 _The Captain opened the door on the left side of the hall and stepped into the bedchamber. He closed the door with a soft_ click _. There was a large bed at the center of the room, against the wall. A sleeping male laid at the center of the bed. Antonio looked him over in the moonlight. He seemed almost angelic in the peaceful way he slept. But those thoughts couldn't cross his mind. He was here to take the boy prisoner._

 _Antonio drew his second sword slowly and soundlessly before bringing the tip close to the boy. He placed his hand over the boy's mouth, and he awoke with a start. His amber eyes few wide and wild in the moonlight._

 _"Be quiet and remain so if you wish to live, sí?" he whispered, taking a step back from the child. "Dress quickly and make no noise. I will not hesitate to kill you if I feel you are too loud, you understand, no?"_

 _The Italian nodded and scrambled from the warmth of his bed. He only wore a short nightshirt in these wee hours of the night, but neither male cared about modesty at the moment. The Italian merely hurried to put on a pair of black pants. He tugged the nightshirt over his head. The boy was thin but muscular. The moonlight accentuated his body. The Spaniard shook the thoughts from his head as the boy pulled a fresh, white shirt over his frame. He had to get his head on straight. This wasn't the time to fawn over a pretty face._

 _"Quickly now, boy. I haven't got all night. Hurry and remain silent..." Antonio whispered as the boy tugged on his boots._

 _The Spaniard them led him from the room and into the hallway by the tip of his sword. Bella had the younger one with her as well. He looked scared and unsure about the pirates that were taking him away, but a look of relief cross his features as soon as he saw his brother. The older, however, looked mortified. Whatever their relationship was, they must have been close._

 _Antonio pulled a nondescript dagger from his holster on his leg and a roll of parchment from the inside of his coat. The parchment was a letter addressed to Augustus Vargas. Antonio glanced over the writing to make sure it was satisfactory._

 _It read:_

 _Sénior Vargas,_

 _Your presence if required at the request of your grandchildren. In two months times, bring twice their weight in gold to the_ Land's End _in two months time, or they will pay dearly._

 _Kindest regards,_

 _The Conquistador_

 _Antonio quietly drove the tip of his dagger into first the paper and then the wood of the fancy French door. He then pulled his sword from between the handles of the grandfather's door before heading silently down the steps with the boys in front of him. Bella led the way. The two pirates led the boys from the safety of their home and back to the carriage they had stolen. They made their way to the docks where their skiff was. Before leaving the mainland entirely, the Captain met Allistor on the dock beside his little boat. They were hidden in the shadows of the cliffs and ships of the wharf. It was as if they were a part of the darkness itself. Antonio left a payment with Allistor for his information and service that led to his success that evening._

 _"Take care, Allistor," Antonio said before slipping into the skiff. "I intend to see you aboard my ship for the rest of your payment soon."_

 _Allistor nodded back to him. "And you, too, Conquistador. Watch where you ventures with these Italians lead you. Don't allow them to lead you astray."_

 _And with that, they parted way. Antonio turned to the Italians that Bella was binding at the wrists. They seemed so innocent and tired in the moonlight. The older one, however, had traces of hatred in his eyes. How Antonio had mistaken him for an angel was beyond his sobriety. These two were innocent, though. Far too innocent and young to face the cruelty of this world._

Antonio looked back to the sleeping Italian. He had regained his angelic grace through rest. He looked peace as his chest rose and fell in a rhythmic pattern. The curl on his head never seemed to lie flat. It gave him that boyish charm. Lovino was just a _boy_. He was young and innocent. His innocence, however, was slowly deteriorating with every moment of this journey. The boy seemed to cling to it desperately. Beyond the hatred he often saw in his eyes, there was fear. In fear, there was innocence and weakness. Antonio could just tell by the way the boy held himself while he slept that he was full of fear. His arms and legs were drawn in as if he were trying to protect himself. Of course, he had a sense of maturity about him. He had taken care of his brother and given him the blanket when he had no obligation to. He was taking care of the younger boy, Antonio noticed, despite how bitter had been to him the few times he had seen them together on his ship. There was much more to the Italian than the Captain had initially realized.

Still, he was nothing more to him than a prisoner. He was a prisoner that, in a moment of pity and weakness and sobriety, Antonio showed kindness to. He unlocked the cell and stepped through the doorway. He removed his red coat and draped it over the boy's body. After that last act, the Captain needed a drink. After a day as stressful as the one he had experienced, he deserved it. He needed a drink and Bella in his quarters. He briskly turned and shut the door to the cell. He didn't look back as he stalked up the stairs silently. He did not notice the bleary-eyed boy staring up at him as he left.

 _Lovino_

Lovino did not notice how long the Captain had been watching him sleep. He could have been there for hours or he could have been there for only a moment. Lovino did not know. He merely felt warmth surround him in the cold of the night. He opened his amber eyes and watched the Spanish captain leave. He did not look back at Lovino He never even said a word. He just walked away. Maybe if he had, Lovino could have saved him... Maybe.

Lovino pulled the Captain's coat tighter around himself. The last thing he remembered before dozing off was the scent of the fabric. It smelt mostly of sweat and vaguely of Spanish flowers.

A/N/: Okay. Well. That took me long enough. Next chapter will take just as long. I haven't even technically started the writing process. Okay. Well. I dedicated this chapter to another Pebblecat because of a nickname they inspired me to use. Lovinito. I thought it sounded cute.

Okay. As for the historical inaccuracies, I know certain countries such as Germany and Italy and Belgium were not founded circa 1500 a.d., but instead of trying to use different adjectives to describe some of their nationalities, I just said fuck it. This is Hetalia. They are countries. Belgium is French for the sake of this fanfiction, but so far that is all I plan to change. That and America. Because America is something you can't really stretch, especially when you're American. There are too many wars for the country. He's just gonna be a Brit with really bad slang and shit. Yeah. Sounds about right.

One final thing. I do not own the majority of the letter Antonio pegged to the door of Augustus Vargas. That is a reference to the movie Hook with Robin Williams (may he rest soundly). Also, I do not own the name, _Lady Beth_. That belongs to George DeValier, who had inspired me to write fanfiction and caused me to love SpaMano with every fiber of my being.

I hope you all enjoyed reading this. It took a lot of work to put out there. I literally retyped every single word. I didn't copy and paste a single thing because. Yeah. Then none of the problems would have been fixed. I managed to add like three more 1.15 spaced pages to this as well. So. Hurrah. I also changed some things in the story. Certain characters. Older readers will understand what I'm getting at. Newer... Not so much. I hope you enjoyed. Sorry for the shitty, lengthy, not very coherent author's note. Spread the word. Tell other people about this. Yep.

Thanks for reading.

Gravey.

P.S. I know that there isn't an 'e' in gravy, I just... Don't question it. 3


	2. Chapter 2

_Antonio_

When Antonio woke the next morning, Bella was gone. She never stayed through until morning. It was not her way. She did not want to be seen as an item with the Captain. She had no intentions for the crew to think she was Antonio's favourite. She came to relieve their frustrations before escaping back to her own cabin for the rest of her night. He knew all of this, of course, and he wasn't bothered by it. He had no real feelings for the woman, and she felt the same. It was a simple relationship for them. The sex was casual. Nothing more. That was why he wasn't bothered when she wasn't there when he woke. He was alone in his bed, resting easily.

He didn't stay locked away in his cabin for long. He dressed, shaved some of the stubble from his face, and started his day with a few drinks. He made sure they were on course for the small pirate stronghold where he usually docked his ship when he wasn't pillaging the seas and went down to the brig to check on his prisoners. He'd have to let some of them out soon. He wasn't going to have a bunch of freeloaders on his ship. He also had to be wary of them. Some were more inclined towards escape compared to others. They were far enough away from land to have any of them escape, but he didn't want to find someone with a knife over him in the middle of the night. He wouldn't put it past Jones or the older Vargas brother. Hell, Lovino had tried his hand once already. On the day he had arrived, Antonio had made the mistake of underestimating him. That had very nearly been a deadly mistake...

 _It was early morning. The Captain had just arrived at the_ Wandering Anna Maria, _which was anchored a mile or two offshore. Antonio took the lead climbing up the side of the ship followed by the brothers and finally Bella. In the meantime, the crew winched up the skiff that they had sailed up onto the ship._

 _That was their first mistake that morning. Taking the bindings off of those boys in order to allow them to climb._

 _"Capitaine, what do you want to do with them?" Bella asked. She pronounced the word 'Captain' like her brother did. The French way._

 _"Put them to work. Find them something to do, no?" Antonio said with a shrug. He took a look around his ship. It could use a good varnish, maybe. "Have they clean or something. I have a lacquer down below that needs to be put on the railings."_

 _Bella nodded easily and gestured for the two boys to follow her. That was their second mistake. Letting those two, the older, in particular, go anywhere near the crew. The crew was a rowdy sort. They weren't prim and proper like those of the British Royal Navy. They were men in the most basic form. They were more than willing to grope and touch a man with a pretty face that passed by, especially after isolation on the sea._

 _And they did just that to both of the little Italians as they passed on by. His crew was going to realize rather quickly that around older, that was a terrible mistake._

 _The Captain heard the younger squeak loudly. Then there a few gasps and a couple shouts of dismay coming from the crew. There was a longer groan of pain and finally the drawing of a sword. Several others followed suit. Each of these sounds occurred when Antonio's back was turned. He spun around to face whatever was making such a noise and landed his green eyes on the older brother. One of the crew lay on the ground, clutching desperately at his groin regions. His sword was in the hand of the older brother. He held it easily as if he had handled one before. Allistor had said that he was raised on the streets. Did that mean he was a young thug? Antonio rolled his eyes. This child was already causing him problems and he hadn't been aboard the ship for more than a few minutes._

 _What he found most interesting and entirely irritating about this situation was the position of his first mate. Bella stood off to the side, leaning against the main mast. She looked bored by the situation. She didn't even make a move to take the sword from the insolent child. The Captain rolled his eyes in disgust. That woman could be so lazy at times. At least she kept an eye on the younger brother. He stood beside her, frozen in place. He was petrified, but she had what seemed to be a calming hand on his shoulder._

 _When the older brother gestured for his brother to follow and started back towards the skiff they had sailed in on, Antonio figured he might as well intervene. It'd be no help if his prisoners escaped on their first day. The Captain drew his sword easily and silently before placing its tip at the neck of the young boy. The Italian stilled and snorted before letting the tip of the sword dip to the floor. The blade sagged in his hand in defeat. He seemed to know when he had been beaten._

 _But the Captain had been a fool to underestimate the boy. He had been warned, but had he listened? No._

 _"Drop the sword, boy," he said in a low voice. Antonio watched from behind the Italian as the blade began to dangle from his fingertips. Antonio began to lower his own blade. That is where he had made his mistake._

 _As soon as the bone-chilling tip of the sword was removed from his neck, the boy attacked. He tightened his grip on the hilt of the blade and swung. Although Antonio sidestepped the blow easily, he had to admit that the boy had good form. He seemed to know the logistics of swordplay, but Antonio could tell he was not well practiced. He knew what he was doing, but he was slow. A smile grew on the Spaniard's lips. This would be an easy battle. Antonio was all about speed. He gracefully reached out and snatched the boy's opposite wrist. He easily twisted it up and behind his back before placing the blade of his sword to the boy's neck._

 _"Drop the sword," Antonio snarled._

 _He heard the clatter of a blade falling and he smiled a cold smile._

 _"Bella, take this one down below," he said, shoving the boy towards his first mate. He could handle the younger looking one without even drawing his sword. He seemed too frightened to even stand up properly. Antonio looked at the crew, namely the one struggling to his feet. He assumed the Italian's foot had connected with his balls. He snorted. Pathetic. "The rest of you lot. Get the fuck back to work."_

 _The Spaniard took one last look at the boy before gesturing for the younger to follow him. He was going to take him to the cook. While he was there, he was going to get some wine. That sounded like the best idea he'd had all morning._

That had been two days prior. Now he walked slowly across the deck of his ship, Lovino in towe. It was the first time he was allowing him out of his cell. He hadn't even tried to pull the boy from his cell. He really just went down to retrieve his coat.

Lovino was asleep when he walked down the wooden stairs only minutes prior to that moment. He was curled on the floor on his side, covered by the red coat Antonio had so kindly lent him. The Captain watched him for a moment before opening the cell and stepping inside. He nudged the boy with his foot and woke him. Lovino groaned in response.

"Come now, boy," he said, pulling his coat from the top of the Italian's frame. He slipped it onto his arms, relishing in the security and familiarity it brought him. He nudged the boy's body again. "I'm not wishing to wait on you all day. Get a move on, no?"

The Italian stood slowly and straightened his rumpled clothes. He didn't speak. He merely followed Antonio's orders. The Captain turned towards the stairs that led up. Before he started up them, however, he spoke, his eyes focussed ahead of him. "Don't try anything funny, boy. I'm allowing you a bit of freedom. Don't abuse it. Don't wreak havoc on my ship, or I will ensure that you do not see daylight again until your grandfather _pays_ for you to see it. I make myself clear, no?"

"Crystal..." Lovino muttered.

"In the meantime, I will leave you in cuffs. I don't trust you, and I won't for quite a while. Give me your wrists. Now."

"The Italian held out his wrists, and Antonio locked the cuffs around them tightly. He pulled on them a bit to make sure that they were locked securely in place. With that, they made their way onto the deck. And that was what led them to where they were. The boy followed behind the Captain, awaiting some sort of order. Antonio heard his soft steps behind him with the jangle of chains. He hears his soft breaths. He could have sworn he could hear Lovino's pounding heart, too.

"You'll be here until your grandfather decides that he wants to come and retrieve you. If the two of you become a burden on me or my crew, I will write him. I will gladly tell him of your impending deaths. If he does not retrieve you within a few weeks of my letter, you will be killed." Antonio shrugged nonchalantly. "Mercilessly. Your brother, however, may be spared. I have reasons to assume that my crew has taken a liking to the young one. I might let them keep him. Not often we get pretty, young boys like him. Not often we get pretty men at all. There are never any women at sea aside from Bella, but she was born on these waters, so she is the exception. Otherwise, it is just bad luck." Antonio said.

He shuddered slightly after mentioning that the last bit. He thought himself not to be a very superstitious man, but some of his crew could say otherwise. He always had a pocketful of posies when he went into a disease-ridden area, but he had reasons for that, reasons he'd rather not think of. He looked at Lovino and offered him a smirk instead. They were touring the ship, but Antonio was a terrible guide. He didn't care to explain anything to the kid.

"But your brother and the musician, now they are a sight for sore eyes. I would have given the musician to the crew to use and abuse, but I promised my dear friend Gilbert that I'd find someone for him after a night of intense sobriety on my part. We shared so many feelings that night... But that is beside the point. I think Gilbert wanted a woman, but who knows? I'll throw the Austrian in something scandalous before showing him to Gilbert. And that British captain as well. He's got a pretty face, no? What the hell am I supposed to do with him? I don't know. I'm sure that unless there is some sort of bindings that I'll never be able to give him to the crew. He's far too resourceful for that. Maybe I'll sell him. Maybe I'll sell all of you." Antonio shrugged once again. "You they'd like if you weren't so violent. Your mouth doesn't help, either but then again, some of these men would like that, no? They like having a bit of a fight. The resistance makes it more thrilling for them."

Antonio turned back to the older Italian once he reached the center of the deck. His face was red and contorted with rage and anger. He seemed not to care about anything in general on a day to day basis, but when it came to his safety and the safety of his brother, he could certainly be set off. Antonio looked at Lovino deviously, choosing his next words carefully. He had to set Lovino off. He enjoyed it far too much.

"The crew has asked me _why_ I haven't handed _you_ over to them yet. I'm sure I could succumb to their wishes. They would certainly enjoy seeing a set of brothers dance for them, don't you think?" Antonio offered Lovino a cheshire-like grin. "Don't worry, though, they won't hurt you too badly. It could be painful at first, though. You are a virgin, sí?" The Italian had a look of pure rage that Antonio was overjoyed to see. He didn't mask his amusement. He let it show freely on his features. He didn't care much for transparency. "Ah, just try not to worry about that. Just enjoy yourself, no?"

"Don't you dare talk about Feliciano and me like that, bastard!" Lovino snapped. "Don't you dare think we'll enjoy any of that bullshit. You're a sick, sick bastard. Don't you dare let those bastards touch Feliciano, or else-"

"Or else what?" Antonio asked, a malicious gleam growing in his green eyes. "What can _you_ do? You're in chains. When you're out of them, you fall too easily to another man's sword. You're pathetic. So tell me, boy, or else what?"

"I..." he trailed off, looking to the ground. He looked like he had a lot to say, but was making some attempt to hold his tongue.

For once the boy was being wise.

"Exactly," the Captain said. "You have a lot of fire in you, kid. I can either help you or kill you. I'd be wise with your words in the future. Don't challenge my authority."

The Italian nodded, a scowl plastered on his features.

"Bood. Now have you come to a decision? Will you behave for the remainder of your time on my ship?"

The boy reluctantly nodded once more. Antonio had his doubts about that, though. He had no real assurance that the boy would behave.

"Good, good. Follow me, then. I will show you to my quarters. You will need to become familiar with my ship, the _Wandering Anna Maria_. You will also need to listen to myself and my first mate, Bella. I want to hear of no back sass, sí? You'll get yourself into more trouble if you do, especially with Bella."

Lovino nodded one final time, and Antonio turned away. He walked through a door that led into a hallway. The hallway branched off into a few different room of the ship, but at the end was where Antonio was headed. There was a set of double doors that opened to reveal his quarters. Antonio stepped through the threshold of the room, the Italian in tow behind him. He moved to the center of the room while Antonio closed the door. He spoke with his back to Lovino. "You will only be allowed in here if I bring you here or if I summon you. You are not to come to me with inane issues. I don't want to hear about your problems." Antonio walked to his desk and took a swig from the bottle of rum that was there.

"Understood," Lovino said.

Antonio turned back to him after setting down the rum and held out his hand. "Give me your hands. There's no point to those cuffs. You can't work if you have them..." he murmured.

The boy complied and held out his wrists to the Captain. Antonio pulled the key from the pocket of his red coat and unlocked the shackles. He tossed them onto the desk at the center of his quarters before looking over the boy. He seemed nervous. "Don't piss yourself, kid. I'm not going to rape you if that's what you're thinking."

Lovino visibly relaxed, and Antonio snorted.

"I'm not that much of a monster. I merely say things to gauge your reactions. I would never do something like that. My crew, I cannot speak for, but I have some boundaries," the Spaniard said, his back to the boy once again. His brow was furrowed as he took another swig from the bottle on his desk. He glanced back at Lovino briefly before speaking again. "Although I might add, I was not lying about your brother and my crew. I really think that after the short period of time that you've been present on deck, that they have become infatuated with him."

"He's sixteen. That's just sick, the stupid fucking bastards."

There was a two year age gap between the boys. That was intriguing. They looked like they could have been twins. Their mannerisms, however, proved the truth in their age difference.

"Hush, boy. I don't want to hear it. Your brother will be fine. I'd be more concerned about yourself right now. You need to watch yourself around the crew. They are always thirsty for blood, and it is not often that that bloodlust is satiated. While I'm around, I am able to keep them on a tight leash, but I haven't the slightest clue what they'd do to you when I'm not around. But remember. If you piss me off, you'll lose that protection."

The Spaniard shook his head. This was the kindest he was going to be to the boy. He slowly sat down behind his desk, kicking his feet up onto the wood. He found he was too restless when he was standing. From his seated position, he could enjoy the bottle of rum in his hand.

"What are your skills, boy?"

Lovino furrowed his brow for a moment and crossed his arms over his chest. "Why do you need to know, bastard?"

"Because I need to see what use you'll be for me over the next few months. I am not a patient man. Answer my questions _without_ sass."

Lovino snorted but answered anyways. "Not much, really. I'm not as good of an artist as Feliciano. I can't work with wood. I can lift, but I prefer not to. I can handle myself with a sword, but obviously, I'm rusty. I can cook, too. And I know the riggings of a ship decently," he said. He then hesitantly added, "I'm a good pickpocket, too."

"A pickpocket?" Antonio asked, his brow raised. He didn't believe that a clumsy looking kid like this could pull that off.

"Yes, and a damn good one at that."

"There's got to be a half-decent story to this, no?"

"It's none of your business, bastard."

"Tell me."

"No."

"That wasn't a question."

"I don't care. No."

"One."

"I'm not a child. You don't need to fucking count."

"Two."

What are you going to do when you get to three? Spank me?" The Italian's voice was laced with sarcasm. His idea wasn't half bad, either.

"Thr-"

"Okay! Fine... I'll tell you the damned story, you nosy fucking bastard," Lovino conceded.

"Antonio nodded, but on the inside, he was a little putout. Lovino's idea of spanking seemed so remedial, yet it drew him in. He would have loved to try it. "Tell."

"When I was six, I ran away to the southern end of Italy. Hitch hiked and backpacked all the way to the tip of the country. The kids down there didn't know my name, so they called me Romano because that was the last place I had visited. A couple of thieves took me in, taught me to pick pockets. I was small enough to get the objects. No one noticed me, and because I was so small, people pitied me, especially the women-"

"So you were a ladies man at the age of six. Bravo," Antonio interjected.

"You can say that," he said with a little smirk. "Anyways, I didn't miss home at all. I didn't miss Grandpa doting on Feliciano. I didn't miss doing chores - not that I actually did them anyways. I grew up there, on the streets. Cooked for some of the kids before I got a job at a small restaurant. It helped pay for some of them to survive. I lived there until I was almost seventeen. Then one day, Grandpa found me on one of his trips south." Lovino visibly deflated after that sentence. His voice grew quiet and his brow furrowed in confusion. "I was sitting at the docks and he saw me. He told me that he recognized my _curl_. Told me _I_ looked like my _little_ _brother_. I looked like _him?_ He hugged me, but I hardly remembered him, but why would I want to after that comparison?" Lovino asked with a shrug of his shoulders. He seemed conflicted. His brow had knitted further inwards. "Supposedly he had been searching for me for the previous eight years, but I didn't care. I enjoyed my time in the south. The thief that raised me taught me and the other urchins how to set the sails on a ship. He taught us the riggings. I met so many people. I met pretty girls... I loved it there. I was happy. I guess I got bitter when Grandpa made me come back and had the thief hanged for kidnapping. I had every right to be bitter. Feliciano was worse than when I left, too. He was such a child. He had learned nothing, and I wasn't going to be the one to teach him, either."

"You grew up on the streets, yet you came from a privileged family? You _ran away_. Most would call you insane, boy," Antonio mused. "Well, you have some skills, so let's put you to work."

Lovino nodded.

Antonio stood from behind his desk and led him the boy from his quarters onto the main deck. He led him to Bella who was instructing the younger Italian on how to go about climbing the rigging. Supposedly Lovino already knew this.

"Bella!" Antonio called as they approached.

"Oui?" the woman asked.

"We still have that paint from when I had my beloved ship last touched up, sí?"

"Oui. It's down below," she replied, her back to him. She didn't seem all that concerned with what he had to say. She was busy teaching the kid in front of her how to climb.

"Well, I was thinking..." Antonio trailed.

"That's never a good idea, Capitaine," she stated.

Antonio shot Bella a glare that she didn't see before carrying on his way. "I was thinking... Now that we have two Italian painters on our hands, why don't we fix up my beloved _Anna Maria_ on the hull of the ship, no?"

The younger of the two brothers immediately squealed in delight of the sound of a new, artistic project. The other looked entirely unamused.

"I told you that I don't paint. Besides. How the hell do you expect us to paint _that?_ We're over the _ocean_. We'd _fall_ ," Lovino stated, his voice bitter and full of biting sarcasm. "You wouldn't want to lose precious cargo after only two days, now would you?"

"Very carefully," the Captain replied.

"You're crazy, Spanish bastard."

"You and my crew know that well enough. If you don't wish to, then I'll find you another project. You can always scrub and varnish the deck. Help the cook in the galley. Menial work."

The sound of the galley peaked Lovino's interests, but his expression fell shortly after. He snorted as he shook his head. "No. You'd just endanger my brother's life that way. I won't have him helping you on your crazy ideas," he snapped. He then turned to his brother. "Feliciano-" _So that was the younger one's name._ "I won't have _you_ endangering _yourself_. I don't want to hear any sort of argument, either. Do you understand me?"

The younger boy nodded glumly. It was obvious that his brother was harsh on him, but it also seemed that he cared. That was something.

"Look, Feli, I just don't want you to break your neck. You don't know anything about this place. You will learn to climb, but in the meantime, I don't want you hanging over the fucking ocean."

"Don't worry, Lovino, Bella will teach me how to climb the ship!"

"I don't want you doing jack shit unless I'm there," Lovino snapped.

The boy nodded once more. At this point, the Captain felt the need to interject after watching the argument from the sidelines.

"This is my ship, boy. Don't go ordering people around. I will have you back in your cell before you can bat a lash," Antonio snapped, towering over Lovino. "Do you understand me?"

The Italian scowled and said nothing. For this one time only, Antonio let the gesture slide and took his silence as a form of agreement.

"Get the paint from down below. _You_ can get to work immediately. I advise you to remain steady. If you fall, I will not go get you. Besides, the waters are cold this early in the year."

The boy nodded before disappearing below deck. Antonio, in turn, walked away from the crew. He found himself upon the stern of the ship. Someone else was sailing. He thought the man's name was Lars or something of the sort. Antonio couldn't be sure. He simply ignored the man. He smiled briefly and looked out onto the ocean. He hoped the day would remain quiet. He could have work done on the ship and sail peacefully.

Hopefully.

Of course, those hopes were dashed to pieces upon the sighting of a certain ship on the horizon. This one, in particular, was familiar and friendly. For the most part. The Captain looked back at Bella on the lower deck who was teaching the younger Italian how to climb the riggings. He hated to interrupt her, but then again, he didn't care.

"Bella, I need to talk to you in my quarters, right away."

The Captain sat in the cushioned chair behind his desk, his red coat draped over the back of his seat. He looked upon his first made, Bella, with a calculating gaze. She sat on the edge of his desk with an elegant flourish. Just like her damned brother...

"I saw Allistor's ship on the horizon," he said. He was getting straight to the point. Allistor would be there soon. "We need to prepare to allow him passage onto the ship."

A concerned expression flashed on Bella's features. "I don't trust him."

"You don't trust anyone," Antonio countered.

"His one loyalty is gold. He's not an honest or honorable man."

"I know, but what pirate is?"

"He will turn on you the second he gets a higher buyer. And he won't fail to admit it, either," the woman said. She was such a feisty woman, in conversation and in bed.

The Spaniard allowed a sigh to escape his lips. "I know."

"For all we know he set this up. He could be on the side of the Italians and the British. Your head has a bounty large enough to set a man well enough off for life, 'Tonio."

"I would like to believe that I can trust him. He's never failed me before," the Captain said, running a hand over his tired face. He picked up the bottle of rum from the table and took a long sip. It had been full that morning, but the stressors of that day alone had caused him to drain in its entirety.

"There has never been anyone crazy enough to employ him aside from you," she said, wringing her hands in frustration. "And there has never been a larger bounty on your head."

There was a conveniently timed knock on the door.

"Enter!" Antonio yelled.

The door opened and in walked Lars. "Captain, the crew and captain of the _Gaelic Flyer_ wish to board.

"Allow them entry. Dismissed," Antonio said with a wave of his hand.

"Yes, Sir."

Antonio looked back to Bella. "We'll talk about this later. Breathe not a word of it."

"Yes, Sir," she said with a drawl of sarcasm. Only she could test the waters with him like so.

"Prepare to receive Allistor. Send him in when he sets foot on deck."

"Yes, Sir," Bella said again.

"Dismissed."

"Thank you, Sir."

Bella left the room and Antonio was left alone to his thoughts for a brief moment. Allistor had yet to send him word of went on in Britain. He knew for damned sure that he had escaped the man was slick enough to evade capture after providing information to Augustus Vargas. Still, Antonio himself had no word. Not yet at least. He had been waiting for Allistor. And he knew the man would just walk right in without the escort of his crew. And Antonio was right. He did just that. Antonio's green gaze shifted upwards towards the door where he saw Allistor standing in the dim light. He had no expression on his features. He simply turned and locked the door after shutting it.

"You have word from Britain, I presume?" the Captain asked cooly.

Allistor nodded. "I spoke to Augustus Vargas after they sent the ship that attacked you yesterday. They realized you were hovering on the coast for a reason. They hadn't realized you were taking the boys until after they were gone. They wouldn't have sent the Navy otherwise. They were hoping they could take them by force, but you've proven otherwise."

The Captain nodded. "And the Grandfather's reaction?"

"Augustus Vargas is furious. He was once a General for the Italian Navy, and he was fully prepared to launch another attack. I've spoken to him of your background, and he is more than willing to reason with you. He is willing to pay. He fears for his grandson's lives. He fears that you will kill them after yesterday's attack. I assured him I'd speak to you, Anthony. They are still alive, I presume?"

"Of course. What do you take me for? I'm not that careless," he replied.

"He hesitates, in wait of funds. I'm sure he is willing to pay any amount for their safe return."

"Good... Good..." Antonio said slowly. "They will be returned in two months. Augustus better have the gold. And tell him I've upped my price because of the damages to _Anna Maria_. Tell him an extra chest of gold should suffice."

Allistor nodded easily. "I can do that for you, but I must warn you, Anthony, that Augustus Vargas knows of my skills. He knows I'm more than just a man with the right information. I fear he is looking to get the money to hire my services once his grandsons are returned, if not sooner."

"To kill me." The Captain's voice was resolute.

"Precisely," Allistor said. "I hold allegiance to no one, Spaniard. In this world, only one thing holds any assurance and value, and that is gold."

Bella had surely been right on one aspect.

"I understand. Your payment for you last venture is here."

"Good."

"Take two of my crew members to carry it. Your chest is in the corner. Payment for this excursion is there as well," Antonio said, gesturing with his ringed hand to a large, gilded chest.

Allistor nodded curtly and left the cabin. Antonio stood and followed after him., his strides slow and leisurely. He walked back out into the morning sunlight after the Scot. His crew kept working, keeping his ship afloat, but their gazes occasionally shifted towards them. And then he noticed there were those that were not working. They weren't his crew. They were entirely unfamiliar to him. Allistor's crew did not trust him. They boarded _the Wandering Anna Maria_ ship to protect their captain. He should have guessed that they would have boarded the ship, too. Allistor did not trust the Spaniard, that much was obvious.

He scowled and pointed to two of the burlier men on his crew. "You two," he said, beckoning for them to come closer. "Help Allistor with his load. Quickly."

The two followed Allistor back to the Captain's cabin and disappeared from sight. Antoni then looked at the members from Allistor's crew. "The rest of you lot best get your asses off of my ship." His voice was calm yet stern.

His ship was cleared of foreigners quickly, and his own crew was left doing their work. The Captain watched, standing in the center of it all, tall and proud. He was in control of this ship. His crew didn't hesitate to follow his every order. Allistor's own crew followed his commands. He held power. He had taken it as his own, he had conquered. He smiled vaguely as Allistor resurfaced with his bounty. He took it back to his ship and his two crew members returned. Then they left, their ship departed. He watched them go, a callous look appearing on his features. The Spaniard had to keep his eye on the Scot. If Augustus Vargas was looking to pay for his destruction, then the Captain had to slowly distance himself from the man until he was sure he would not be betrayed. Allistor held allegiance to no one. He was apart from everyone. He wasn't even sure if the man loved. God, what had Bella done to him?

Just as Antonio was about to go back into hiding, he heard a loud yell from above. He turned his head to gaze at the skies. His eyes were wide with surprise and confusion. Then he saw him. The younger Vargas, dangling from above, clinging to the riggings for dear life. Antonio still and did not move. He saw Bella start up the rigging to help him, but Antonio held up his ringed hand.

"No!" he yelled. "Nobody move. Nobody touch him. Nobody help him. He needs to learn to get down himself."

Bella stopped and stood still at Antonio's command. All except Lovino. He came running, jars of paint in his hands. He had brushes under his arms. Was he just _now_ returning with the paint? He could have sworn he told the boy to get that started at least half an hour before. He turned to the boy slowly, his features lined with annoyance.

"I told you to go paint," the Captain said, stepping in Lovino's way of the riggings.

"Yeah, but your shit is a fucking mess down there. It took forever to find it. And it's not even good quality. Where the hell did you get this shit? Britain?"

"You're just incompetent."

"Says the one leaving Feli there! You're just going to let him dangle?"

"Sí, and you won't be helping him, either."

"Just fucking watch me."

Lovino set down the jars and stalked past Antonio. The Captain watched as he began to climb the riggings with ease. He showed little fear. Most boys his age who didn't have sea legs would have felt terrified. He was sure Feliciano felt that way. He had to be terrified. Lovino, on the other hand, grew up on the streets. He was at ease with climbing. He showed no fear. Antonio watched him with interest as he easily climbed the riggings and took hold of his dangling brother. He pulled him to safety with a powerful grace that intrigued Antonio. He always found himself getting more and more intrigued by the boy. He had natural sea legs just as the Captain did. He hadn't seen someone with such skill in a long while. He was impressed and interested. This feeling would only save the boy from severe punishment. He had disobeyed a direct order, and the Captain would not stand for such insubordination. When the two Italians reached the deck, the Captain approached with a look of callous disinterest and rage.

"You," he said, pointing to the younger one. "Brig. Now. Bella, take him." The woman nodded and led Feliciano down below. Antonio then turned to the older sibling. "You dare disobey my orders, boy? Are you trying to undermine my authority?"

"You were just going to let him hang there! He would have fallen!" Lovino yelled.

"He would have learned how to climb back up on his own! You deprived him of the chance," Antonio shot.

"I'd rather save him than risk having him fall!"

"You don't realize, boy, that you can't save everyone in this world! You've only bought him a little while longer, but the next time he had to go up the rigging, he may not be so lucky. Hell, I have half the mind to send him back up there right now."

"You wouldn't _fucking_ dare!"

"And what can _you_ do to stop me? You have no sword. You have no dagger. You're a pathetic boy who wants to look stronger by standing up to the Captain. But guess what? You're my prisoner. And until someone comes to retrieve your sorry ass, I'm sure you'll remain that way. I only that it happens soon, but who would want an albatross like you? Scared. Useless. Weak. Your grandfather must think you to be an utter disgrace. You ran away from home because you were too afraid to look at his expressions of disappointment," the Captain said. His voice was calm and collected. He knew just where to hit to make the boy lose his desire to fight. He knew how to make him break. "You always knew your brother was better than you. You're a weak, pathetic excuse for a man and to your family. I wouldn't be surprised if he leaves you her to die and takes only your brother. I wouldn't' be surprised to learn that he doesn't love you."

"That's a lie. You're just a cold hearted drunk who finds joy in tearing down the defenseless," Lovino replied, his voice soft and steady. His head hung so that his hair covered his eyes. "Besides. Grandpa would never do that to me."

"Yes, boy, he would." With a sense of finality, Antonio turned on his heel to go back to his cabin. He spotted Bella coming back from below deck and took hold of her arm as she passed. He quickly jerked his head towards the boy. "Take him below, then meet me in my cabin. I need to blow off some steam... Everyone else! Back to work!"

Antonio walked a few paces and then he heard more yells. He sighed heavily and kept walking. Whatever it was, Bella could deal with it.

 _"Bad form!"_

 _"Capitaine!"_

 _"Behind you! The brat is coming!"_

Antonio heard the scurrying of feet and the drawing of swords. Just a he was about to draw his own, he felt a sickening crack at the back of his skull. He felt a cool, thick liquid that was paint running down the collar of his shirt and down his skin. He turned back briefly and saw through the black spots in his vision a very surprised Italian. His face was pale and his eyes were wide. He hands were covered in the same red paint that covered Antonio now. Lovino had struck him. He had _wasted_ expensive paint! With a swiftness that the boy did not seem to expect, the Captain backhanded him. He heard him cry out, but he did not care. He simply turned away and managed to remain steady although the world was spinning in splotchy darkness. He didn't know exactly what would happen or exactly how long he had until he lost consciousness. All the spinning... All the blackness... He knew he would. He didn't stand a chance. He had to get back to his cabin. He could not appear weak in front of his crew.

He gave one final order before stepping into the hall that would lead him to his cabin. "Do with him as you will, but God so help you if he dies..."

The Captain lurched forward and the door slammed behind him. His movements were sluggish. He stumbled down the hall, leaning against the walls to keep himself upright. His cabin was so close, within inches of his fingertips. He opened the double doors and staggered inside. He slammed them closed behinds him. As he reached the center of the room, the darkness took over.

 _Lovino_

He didn't know what had come over him. One moment he was accepting the defeat he felt after the Captain's harsh words, and then he was lifting the jar of paint. He remembered the sickening noise of it cracking open against the Captain's skull. When the red paint came into view, he felt an illness wash over him. It was something he liked to think of as existential dread. He had immediately paled over, and his eyes widened. He caught the Captain's expressionless gaze before he felt the back of his ringed hand connect with his cheek. He supposed he deserved that. He had attacked the man. He hadn't meant to, but he was just so angry. His emotions had gotten the best of him. They always did.

The Captain walked away and just before he disappeared from sight, he gave one final order to his devote crew, an order that sent waves of fear and dread through him.

"Do with him as you will, but God so help you if he dies..." the Captain spoke. And then he was gone.

Lovino was grabbed immediately following the Captain's disappearance. He didn't have a moment to assess what was going on. They merely dragged him across the deck. He didn't fight them. He allowed them to pull him to and fro. He was too stunned and surprised to do anything else. Somewhere in the chaos, his shirt disappeared. The crew shouted and jeered at him. They called him disturbing names, but he said nothing. He reacted in no way. For once in his life, he was holding his tongue. They wound a rope around his left wrist and pulled him to his knees in front of the mizzen mast, his chest flush with the wood. His other wrist was tied to a length of rope, and his body was pulled until he hugged the mast. He had no idea what they were doing. He was too numb to think the situation through. He knelt before the mast, his forehead pressed against the wood. Maybe they'd leave him there to burn under the blazing sun. But that was wishful thinking. These men were pirates. They wouldn't be so kind as to allow that. He knew as much. The Captain said to have their way with him. He was sure they would do just that. If it meant torturing him... Lovino did not want to think of that. He waited as the moments passed by. Something was coming, but he couldn't figure out-

He heard the noise of plaited leather striking skin before he actually felt it. When he did, however, Lovino cried out. His scream was only met with laughter.

"Count," a voice ordered.

"One," Lovino said through gritted teeth. He had set all humility aside.

The strikes kept coming. _Two. Three. Four._ He pulled at the ropes that kept him in place. Fix. Six. Seven. His back arched with pain with every blow, but the crew was relentless. _Eight. Nine. Ten._ Sweat poured down his brow and blood seeped down his back, but he did not plead for them to stop. _Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen._ They began passing the whip between the crew members. Everyone had to get their fun in. _Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen._ Lovino was growing numb, but he managed to keep his head upright. _Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty._ His wrists were bleeding from pulling so roughly on the ropes. _Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three._ His consciousness was wavering, but he held on; he could not give them any sort of satisfaction out of this. _Twenty-four. Twenty-five. Twenty-six._ He blinked back the swimming vision and tears that clouded his eyes. _Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine._ His arms were limp. He stopped pulling. He was so weak and delirious. _Thirty._ The darkness surrounded him, and Lovino greeted death as if it were an older friend.

 **A/N/: So that concludes the second chapter. What if I told you that was the end? Would you hate me? It's not, I'm a liar. I know. But. I'm on a roll if you think about it. But yeah.**

 **So as far as characters go (because I should have done this last chapter)...**

 **Bella: Belgium**

 **Allistor: Scotland**

 **Lars: Australia**

 **Augustus Vargas: Rome**

 **I don't think I have any other oddballs. I'll keep adding them as I go**.


	3. Chapter 3

_Antonio_

The Captain woke in his bed. His entire body and frame seemed heavy like lead. His head throbbed in the candlelight of his dim cabin. The sun was setting, leaving the room bathed in an orange glow. Antonio closed his eyes and ran his hands through his curly brown hair. It was silky and smooth just as it had been when he was a child. There was no trace of paint or blood. There was a large bump where he had been struck, but nothing more. There were no life-threatening injuries covering his body. They had all been patched and sewn shut. He owed a lot to his first mate, Bella, and in one of the days to followed, he felt as though he'd have to repay that debt. The woman had patched and cleaned his wounds more times than he could count.

The Captain slid from his bed and stood on wobbly, bare feet. As he stretched out his bare arms, his green eyes opened. His torso was bare. He assumed Ludwig must have removed his soiled shirt. He thought nothing more of it and merely donned a fresh one from his wardrobe. His red coat was in his wardrobe as well; he was sure he had left that on the back of his chair earlier that day. It had been moved since then. Bella must have gone around and cleaned up after him. He'd also have to repay her for that one day. That woman did more than was asked of her and not a single complaint had ever been uttered from her lips. Antonio touched the red fabric of the coat with a sense of longing, but he did not slide it onto his arms. It was late and the sun was setting. He did not need to show off the coat. No battle raged. Here and now, he was just a simple captain. He left it where it hung and retreated from his cabin to the dimming sunlight.

Out onto the deck he stalked, his feet still bare. It had been a long while since he had walked across his beloved ship without boots. It felt soft and strong beneath his calloused feet. The setting sun cast long shadows across the worn varnish on the equally worn wood. They spread everywhere, each one of his crew pinpointed to his own. He scanned them all. They lurked about in the remnants of the day as they usually did. There was a face, however, that he could not seem to find. Bella was not present in the sea that was his crew. She was gone from his sight. He was surprised that she was missing as the light waned. She always watched the setting sun. The Captain headed towards the stairs that led up to the poopdeck, his thoughts wandering. Where had she gone? She was always at the hull with _Anna Maria_ as twilight fell upon them to light her lantern. Was she there and just hidden from his view? Antonio kept on walking until he got to the top of the stairs.

And then he heard a whimper.

He stopped. His eyes darted round, in search of the source of the noise. His eyes fell upon them. Bella and Lovino were at the base of the mizzenmast. A knife rested in Bella's hand. The boy seemed to be bound to the wooden structure. Only his arms were visible as Bella knelt in front of him, hiding most of the boy from view. As if sensing him, the French-woman turned and stared at him with sad, green eyes. Antonio stood frozen. He could not make heads or tails of the chaos that had become his mind. He did not understand. Had something happened? The boy was fine earlier before he went to his cabin. What had his crew done? Had his crew left the kid out in the blazing sun the entire day? It seemed unlike them. They preferred harsher and more painful methods of punishment, usually rape. For a moment, he was almost disappointed in them. That disappointment, oddly enough, turned to rage once he saw the bloody towel at Bella's side. The blood was not hers. That meant that the crew had left damage on the boy. This had to be physical, not mental. Fury fueled his movements as he slowly walked over to them. He stopped beside Bella, looming over both her and Lovino. His emerald eyes scanned over the damage that had been done. His fists clenched at his sides until his knuckles were white.

Lovino's back was littered with bloody, red lacerations and purple and black bruises. His shirt had disappeared, exposing his arms and torso. His wrists were bloodied and raw from where the roles were wound around them. Any of his skin that was not cut was burned bright red from the scorching sun. The boy was a mess of pain and despair. He could hear it from the ragged breaths and whimpers that escaped his lips. He was alive, but he was in agony.

Antonio had to control the blind fury that coursed through him. _He_ had allowed this. He couldn't yell at his crew for harming the boy. This was _his_ fault. He had given them permission to do as they wished to the boy. Those words were foolish. He should have been more careful with his verbiage. He had acted too rashly. He aced out of anger, not sense. The guilt from the thought could not be explained in words. He closed his eyes for a moment and then held out his hand to his first mate.

"Bella, your knife," he said in a neutral tone.

"The woman handed him the blade, and Antonio immediately set to work at cutting away the ropes that held the boy in place. As soon as they were loose, he slumped to the ground as if they were the only things hold him upright. They probably were. He was in such a pitiful state. He couldn't even support himself. The Captain felt his resolve weakening. He hadn't meant to leave the kid in such a state. He hadn't meant to hurt him this badly. He bent down and took hold of him. He slung Lovino over his shoulder and started across the deck towards his cabin.

"Bella, grab some rum and bandages," he said plainly. There was no hint of his former fury behind his words. It was as if the fury had never existed in his heart. "If his wounds fester and become infected, he'll surely die. I promise you that."

Bella gave a solemn nod of her head and disappeared below deck. Antonio made his way to his cabin with surprising speed. Once inside, he went to his desk. With a single sweep of his arm, he cleared the papers that littered it. So much for Bella's attempt at cleaning the room, but that wasn't his concern at the moment. He set the boy down on his chest and laid his arms out at his sides.

Soft whimpers escaped his dried, cracked lips. The Captain whispered Spanish lullabies in some vain attempt to calm the boy. These were tactics his mother used on him when he was younger. He hoped they'd work now. His voice shook with every word. Hell, he couldn't even remember the words. He hadn't sung the lullaby in so long. He was sure his voice was anything but calming with how garbled it was coming out. He had no other options, though. He had no idea what else to do. He had not the supplies to care for the boy, not until his first mate returned.

He watched Lovino, his heart beating rapidly. He hated this feeling. He hated feeling useless and powerless. He hadn't felt that way in a long, long while. Not in so many years. What if he should die? How could Antonio come to terms with that? This boy was an innocent. The Captain could not kill those who did not deserve it... I was against his principles. He could tell himself that the boy deserved it, that he was just rich scum like his grandfather and every monarch in the world, but that was a lie. He was nothing more than a child...

Bella came to his rescue moments later with two bottles of rum and an armful of fabrics from the cargo hold. A small, yellow bird was resting on her shoulder, but she seemed not to notice. Antonio, in turn, thought nothing of it and delved into his questions.

"Do you know what happened?" the Captain asked, uncorking of the bottles with his teeth. "Hold him. I don't want him to fall..."

Bella took hold of the boy's arms. "I followed you after he attacked you. You were my main concern, not him. You were injured, and as your first mate, it was my duty to make sure that you would survive. You have to understand my surprise at finding you had made it all the way to your cabin. I expected to find you collapsed in the hall. That jar was anything but light. I cleaned you up best I could. I was sure that you wouldn't want anyone to see you like that, so I didn't ask for help. I bathed you and tidied your cabin, because, Tonio, you can be disgusting sometimes," Bella said, giving him a more than pointed look. She was trying to make light of the situation, to ease his visible stress, but it didn't work. She sighed and pressed on after seeing the blank expression on his face. "I was gone for - what? - three or four hours? By the time I found him, the damage had already been done. If I had stayed back to keep an eye on them, ten this wouldn't have happened. The boy would be okay. I could have saved him from the pain, the poor thing. I could have made sure you were okay, too. _Je suis désolé, Capitaine_. This is my fault."

Antonio stayed silent for a moment and poured some rum onto the boy's back. His body writhed beneath Bella's strong grip, but the woman did not budge. Lovino cried out in pain, and the shouts caused an ache to form in Antonio's chest. He closed his eyes briefly and breathed in deeply. This was a painful process for them both. He took some of the fabric Bella brought and dabbed up any remaining blood and alcohol from the boy's back before letting his eyes meet Bella's.

"Your heart is too big, Bella. This is not your fault. He attacked me when I had my back to him. In my fit of anger, I told the crew to do as they wished with him... I was stupid to believe they wouldn't beat him nearly to death, despite my warnings," Antonio muttered. He shook his head and frowned bitterly. "They're pirates. Hell, they're _my_ crew. I should have expected this. This is my fault. I am to blame for his pain and his anguish, and I accept that responsibility..." the Spaniard whispered. "You don't have any of this on your shoulders, Bella."

"You're not as cruel as you think, you know," she replied, his voice calm and collected. She had always been Antonio's voice of reason since the day they had met so many years ago. It was why he had asked her to be his first mate. At one point, he could have said he even- "It's just the al-"

"Speak nothing of it," he quickly interrupted. "Hold him still."

Antonio pursed his lips and poured rum on the lacerations that covered the boy's wrists, ignoring his whimpers and cries. Each made the Captain cringe in despair and disappointment, but he had to ignore them to remain concentrated. He wiped away all of the dried blood with the fabric, his gaze empty. After the boy was free of blood on his skin, he looked back to Bella.

"Leave him here and I'll bandage him later," he said, avoiding the woman's eyes. "Deal with the crew. Set a strict night watch. Make sure the deck is spotless by morning. I'll stay here with him for now."

"Yes, Capitaine," the blonde said with a curt not. She turned to leave, but Antonio stopped her.

Then she left the Spaniard's quarters. Antonio looked at Lovino, whose features were pale. His lips were cracked and dried and bloody. A sheen of sweat covered his brow. It seemed as if the boy had never suffered this much in his lifetime. The Captain noted once more how this journey was taking its toll on the boy. His innocence was falling apart at Antonio's fingertips. He was robbing Lovino of it, much like his own had been robbed of him. He pursed his lips and closed his eyes. He couldn't let the child die. Hell, he at least had to return him to his grandfather broken and mended. He knew that Lovino wouldn't be quite the same from this endeavor. He'd be scarred both physically and mentally, but this wasn't his job to deal with. Sure, it infuriated him to see the Italian like this, but he couldn't do much of anything. He had no place to, no right to. After all, this was his fault. Someone else had to mend Lovino.

Antonio watched the boy with an odd expression. Much to his surprise, he found that single curl in his hair that didn't seem to want to lie flat. There were no other curls in his sweat soaked hair. Just that one, and against all odds, it stood tall. The Captain's fingers began to gravitate towards it, but he was caught by the sweaty hand of the boy lying on his desk.

"Don't touch it," he warned, his amber eyes staring him down through the narrow slits of his eyelids.

"Why?"

"Because, tomato bastard, I said. _Don't_ touch it."

"Tomato bastard?" he asked, raising a brow.

"Yes. now don't touch it. Leave me in peace, and _do not_ touch it..." he said. "You don't want to deal with the aftermath. If you think I'm a problem now, pull the damned curl will only make it worse..."

The Captain nodded with a confused expression. This had to be the mad ramblings of a half-conscious man. The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes. He was almost sure the boy had fallen back to sleep when he heard him speak two soft words.

"I'm sorry."

Antonio looked down at the boy with yet another confused expression. "Excuse me? What could _you_ have to be sorry for?"

"I attacked you..."

"And my crew flogged you senseless."

"Bastard, just accept the fucking apology and don't make me say it again," he mumbled. Another long silence followed.

Antonio waited a while longer before picked up the bottle of rum once more. "Bite down on your knuckles. I need to clean out your wounds once more. I can't have you acquiring infections from that whip. I can't remember the last time it was cleaned."

"Why are you doing this?" Lovino asked.

"I just told you. I can't have you dying from infection."

"No... I mean... _You_. Yourself. You're a _pirate captain_. You could have just sent someone else to do it. It's weird that you're being so nice."

"And let you die on their hands? No. My crew knows nothing about medicine."

"And you do? You're no physician."

"No... I'm not..."

"Can't you just take me to land? Find someone who understands what they're doing? Hell, you'll need supplies, won't you?" he asked.

"No."

"Why?"

"I can't have you escaping or telling anyone who you are and what has happened to you. I'm not clueless, boy. Until your grandfather pays your ransom, you will remain under my control. I can't let two innocent boys roam the countryside and the seven seas alone, now can I? That would be cruel and reckless of me."

"You're truly noble and chivalric," Lovino drawled, giving Antonio a pointed look. "Surely inflicting pain and injury is crueler than letting us roam the British countryside. _Trust me_."

"I did not mean for you to be injured..." Antonio's voice was soft.

"Then why tell your crew to do as they wished with me?"

"Because I was angry and seeing stars! If you hadn't attacked me, maybe we wouldn't have had this problem."

"If you hadn't tried to kill my brother and then proceeded to make me feel like nothing-"

"You're not nothing."

"Not to you. To you, I'm a sum of gold. I'm money. The more damage that's brought to me, the less you can charge to return me to my grandfather. You're a Spaniard. You are a man of your word. You promised we'd be returned unharmed. Forty plus sars on the skin of my back is far from unharmed, bastard, and Grandpa will know that."

"Don't make a habit of pissing me off, then... And then I won't have to heal your wounds. You seemed to have survived I'm sure you could do it again. I will add scars to your back. Do not test me," he snapped. For some reason, this boy sure knew how to push his buttons and make him cranky. For some reason, however, he felt as though he could never allow such a thing to happen to the boy again while he was in Antonio's care. He was already enraged by the beating his crew had given Lovino. He had doubts he could ever do it again. "Besides. I never said that to your grandfather. I only said I'd return you. So whatever happens to you in the meantime is not my problem."

"I doubt he's expecting damaged goods. It's like giving someone a bruised tomato. Who wants a bruised fuckin' tomato?"

"What is with you and tomatoes all of a sudden?"

"I like tomatoes."

"So do I."

"Wow. The fearsome pirate is _actually_ human. Why don't we give him a round of applause."

Antonio ignored him and poured rum on his back. He dabbed at the cuts with the cloth in his hands, ignoring his hisses and curses. He mopped up any remaining blood and liquid. "Go to sleep, boy. I'm sure you are tired."

"I'm not exactly a boy, you know," Lovino said. He slipped off the Captain's desk and stood slowly on shaky legs. He stumbled and nearly fell, but Antonio came to his aid and offered his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around the boy's waist, careful not to touch the cuts and bruises. He flinched, but Antonio did not care. He ignored that, too.

"You need to stay here. You don't have the strength to move," the Spaniard said, helping Lovino into his own bed. He laid him down on his stomach and pulled a blanket over his legs after removing his boots. I'll be back sometime after nightfall to check on you..."

Antonio walked to the door and swung it open, pausing only when Lovino spoke.

"Thanks, bastard," he said.

The Captain did not look at Lovino. He kept his vivid, green eyes focused on the floor. "Don't get used to my kindness. You will seldom see it after this point."

Antonio left the room and allowed his thoughts to wander. He couldn't get his mind away from the boy. He had spent only a few days with him, and nearly every moment was more infuriating than the last... But tonight was different. The Spaniard was _different_.

All of a sudden, Antonio was engrossed in everything that was Lovino. He was suddenly finding himself drawing closer. He was so strange and alluring for a boy his age. He was more of a young man than a boy. Eighteen years old and ten years the Spaniard's junior, but that was another thing that drew him in. The gap in their ages caused for so many differences in their experiences, but there were also so many similarities. He was someone who had faced a lot in his past, just as Antonio had. He grew up on the streets, from he had gathered. He knew how to handle himself. And that fire in his eyes that came alive each time he spoke... It told so much about his character. It told of his naïvety. He was so, so naïve, but he seemed to have a bit of experience, something that he was hiding from the rest of the world. He could see something hiding behind his rough exterior. He could see it all in the liquid amber and green pools that were Lovino's eyes. Antonio wanted to know more of his secrets. He craved to see what he hid, but he could do no such thing.

He could not conquer what was not meant to be conquered.

The boy was hurt and aching. It was all Antonio's fault that he was left in this state. He had thrown him to the dogs that were his crew. They maimed him and left him to suffer. Anger fueled in Antonio for the pain they caused him, but he could not release it. _He_ had condoned it. _He_ had allowed it to continue. _He_ had gone against his every principle and hurt the innocent. _He_ had caused his suffering, and for some reason, Antonio had grown to care. He cared about the boy's well-being. The anger that flared in him when he had seen the damage was proof enough. He had never cared when it was another crew member. He always thought they deserved it for the ridiculous stunts that they pulled. They, however, were not innocent.

When it came to Lovino... In some way, he had allowed his resolved to slip. But _why_ had it slipped? Had he allowed something to change him? His sudden care for the boy, where had it come from? He could not let himself care about the boy. He was a _pirate_. He was not allowed to care or have feelings for another. It was too dangerous. He could only take what he wanted. He conquered it. He was a conquistador. That was his way... He wouldn't allow himself to be immersed in such petty thoughts. _No._ These feelings he had coursing through him... They had to be pity for the state they boy was in. nothing more. But where they had all come from out of his cruel personality, he had no idea.

As the Captain walked, immersed in his thoughts, the shadows ahead of him cast by the dimly lit lamps on deck moved. Two figures came towards Antonio, and he looked on them with a fearless expression. He didn't draw his sword. He didn't even place a hand on the hilt. He did not look away or run. These two did not scare him. He recognized the careless swagger of one and the proud stride of the other.

"Francis? Gilbert? How long have you two been stowed away on my ship?"

"Only a moment or so now, my friend," the Frenchman said.

"I swear. I need to berate my crew twice over..." First, they mercilessly flog a kid, then they let the other two members of the Bad Touch Trio amble freely onto his ship.

"I send Gilbird ahead of us. He was supposed to tell ya' we were comin'," Gilbert said with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulder. He had a bottle of what seemed to be beer in his hand, probably from his own ship, wherever it was. Antonio couldn't tell in the darkness.

Antonio had seen the little yellow bird only a half an hour earlier. He had been perched on Bella's shoulder, but he didn't think twice of him. "That bird is just as reliable as a senile, old woman, and you know it," Antonio said. He was tempted to take the beer right out of Gilbert's hand, but he didn't quite care for its taste.

"Or you're just as inobservant as a blind man," Gilbert retorted.

"Shut up." The two stared each other down for a few moments before grins broke onto their features. They embraced briefly and stepped back from each other. Antonio hugged Francis immediately after.

"Why have you come to visit me?" Antonio asked, leading his friends towards the hull of the ship rather than his own cabin. His bare feet padded lightly on the worn wood.

"Friendly visit," Francis said quickly. It was suspicious, but Antonio brushed it aside. "Why are we going this way. Your quarters are in the opposite direction."

"It's a beautiful night. We should enjoy it, no?" Antonio asked softly. He then hesitantly added, "Besides, I have someone sleeping in there..."

"You have a lady friend on board?" Francis asked, his eyebrows rising suggestively.

"No. Don't you know it's bad luck to have a woman on board?" Antonio asked.

"Yet you have Bella on board," the Frenchman said.

Antonio rubbed the back of his neck at the mention of his first mate. This was not a conversation he wanted to have with one of his best friends. It was far too dangerous of a topic. "No. I've no idea where your sister is."

"Then who is in your cabin?" Gilbert asked. "You didn't lock Ludwig inside of it, did you? We lost him as soon as we got on board."

"I'm not nearly strong enough to overpower your brother."

"I mean, he could be down below..." Gilbert mumbled. "You didn't have sex with-"

"God, no! Gilbert. He is the kid brother of my best friend. I will not sleep with him. He is also, might I add, a man."

Gilbert only replied with a snort.

"Then who is sleeping in your cabin, 'Tonio?" Francis swiftly interjected.

"A prisoner I'm holding for ransom. My crew decided to whip the shit out of the kid this morning."

"And you're taking care of the brat?" Gilbert's tone was incredulous. He seemed entirely shocked that his hardened friend was taking care of a _prisoner_. "I thought you got over that whole spiel years ago."

"My friend! You are in _love!_ You _love_ him! That is the only explanation for it!" Francis exclaimed with that flamboyant flourish of his.

"No, he's not in _love_. You think everyone is in fucking love. There is no such thing. The bitch has gone soft," Gilbert snapped.

"I have not. I just felt the need to take care of his wounds, because the boy _is_ worth a profit to me. I need to return him whole and alive in order to receive the money I desire."

"Fine, you're not going soft, but don't go getting yourself by a number of prisoners you have here. Francis decided to add a fifth to your load."

"A fifth, Francis? Really?" Antonio asked, groaning inwardly. "The Austrian Princess I hardly see, but still manage to get pissed off by."

"You picked up an Austrian Princess? Please tell me she's at least pretty? You didn't nab some ugly board, did you?" Gilbert asked. He seemed mildly interested.

"No. I stole _him_ off a British ship I sank. Figured I'd _sell_ him eventually. I haven't decided yet. I Also stole _his_ Captain, which I might add, is the Captain of the Lady Beth."

Gilbert scowled. "I get it. It's a dude. Fuck off."

Antonio grinned before looking to Francis and asking hesitantly, "So, who is this fifth prisoner you have brought me?"

"He's a French traveler and informant that was making an attempt to flee the country. I had leads that he was coming to Britain to stock up and sell some information to an avid buyer. He's a crafty man. He knows just about any language except Japanese, I believe. Handsome devil, too. Can woo any man or woman he pleases with the few words that he says. He's a legend, I promise you, my friend."

"So, the King of France sent you and your crew to pick up someone who defied him and stole his secrets. You had a classic case of love at first sight upon seeing him, and now you just absolutely have to win his favor and sleep with him before you are satisfied. But before you can have him, you need to tell the king he is dead. Perhaps bring him the body of a criminal. Your monarch is gullible, and you know he will believe it. The King also has no idea as to what he looks like, so you can easily bang him, and go. You'll never see him again after that," Antonio said with a matter of fact tone.

A hand flew to Francis' heart dramatically. "You wound me, 'Tonio. You are right about everything until the very end! I will not leave my beloved Mathieu. I will love him forever!"

"Bull shit," Gilbert scoffed. "Do you remember when he said that about the British captain with the bushy eyebrows?"

"He was an absolute ass. And his cooking was God awful. He had horrible taste in wine, too. How could I ever have loved _him?_ " Francis asked, another offended look appearing on his features.

"Hey, neither of you had to serve under him for two years. I think he's still pissed at me for stealing the money I used to make _Anna Maria_ from him," Antonio pointed out.

"I'd be pissed at you, too, Toni. I'm pretty sure he's got it out for you, too," Gilbert said.

Antonio shrugged. "The point is. Francis, you fall in love with everyone you meet."

"Mathieu is different, though!" Francis argued. "He is _French_. He is amazing. I am in love! I promise you, my friend."

"I'm sure you are," Antonio said with a smile. "You two are welcome to stay the night, although I'm sure your ships are only a league or two off. There is space below with the crew, or I suppose you could bunk in my cabin..."

"Such a great idea! We can spend all night drinking and regaling the tales of our youth!" Francis exclaimed.

"Just _don't_ disturb the boy. I'd rather not have a pissed off, delirious Italian yelling at me when my head is throbbing. It's your damn wine that has only ever given me any form of a hangover. That would lead to more problems that I'm not willing to deal with," Antonio said bitterly.

"Why are you so concerned about this kid? Tell the person you're holding him ransom from you're going to kill him if he doesn't pay up soon, and then wait for the money."

"You do realize he's only been present for a few days. I gave the man two months to get the funds together. I'm going to meet him in the Caribbean, which is where I'm heading now," he said as he started towards the brig. "Now, come on. I want to see this prisoner you've managed to saddle me with."

The Captain led his friends down below. He was surprised to find Ludwig there, sitting in front of the cell that held Feliciano. He was even more surprised to find that Ludwig was caressing the boy's cheek as if wiping the tears that fell from his eyes.

"What the hell, Ludwig? I leave you alone for ten minutes and you're already trying to sleep with the prisoners? What the hell man? That's just wrong!" Gilbert exclaimed.

Ludwig flushed a bright pink color. "He was crying."

Antonio shook his head with an exasperated sigh and placed his hand on Gilbert's shoulder. His best friend could be such an ass sometimes. He pulled his keys from the hook on the wall and tossed them to Ludwig. The blond caught them with a stunned expression.

"Take him upstairs and have him stretch his legs. He hasn't been out all day. Just keep an eye on him," Antonio said.

The German nodded, released Feliciano, and left quickly. Gilbert turned to Antonio with a concerned expression.

"You're just going to let them run off like that?" he asked, his brow raised.

"I'm not your brother's keeper. I don't need to watch his every move."

"But what if the kid sneak attacks him or something?"

"That boy would never consider hurting a fly let alone another person. He's too sweet."

Gilbert walked off to the corner to grumble and sulk, and Antonio looked to the blond prisoner that was leaning against the wall in a separate cell from the rest of his prisoners.

"This is Matthew, I'm assuming," Antonio stated, looking over at the man. He was thin and pale with light blond hair. A pair of wire-framed glasses hung off the tip of his nose in front of violet eyes. From the look of him, he seemed strong. He had a decent muscular build. There seemed to be nothing special about him... Other than the fact that he looked far too much like Alfred, the Captain in the next cell over. "This is the informant the King wanted you to hunt down? He doesn't seem like much of anything to me."

"Don't speak of me as if I'm not here," the blond said.

"Don't back sass me. You're on _my_ ship."

"Yes, the _Wandering Anna Maria_. And you're the Captain, _Antonio Fernandez Carriedo_."

Antonio froze. The man knew his name. His _full_ name. _No one_ knew his full name. "I'm going to kill him, Francis. I'm really going to kill him. I swear to God, I'm going to throttle him, Franny."

"Non! You will do no such thing, 'Tonio! He's smart and he knows a lot. It will be only a few weeks, I promise you."

"If I hear anyone speak my name because of him, I will hurt him, Francis."

The Frenchman nodded reluctantly.

"How long did it take you to take down the _Lady Beth_?"

"Shut up, Matthew," Alfred suddenly snapped, his blue eyes narrowed.

"Al was never one to abandon a ship. He used to swear up and down that the day that the _Lady Beth_ sank was the day was the day he died," Matthew said, looking directly at Antonio. "You must have dragged him off that ship. I'm sure he's positively _aching_ that he couldn't go down with the ship and crew."

"Ya' know. You really need to learn how to shut your mouth, Matty. Never figured the shy kid who used to piss his pants would turn into such a dick," Alfred grumbled.

Antonio watched with interest. "How do you two know each other?"

"This bloody git is my brother," Matthew said, donning a faux British accent as a replacement for his natural French one.

Alfred sneered at his brother. "You're so freaking disappointing. You disappear for four years and turn into a freakin' pirate, Matty. I could understand if you worked under the French crown 'cause you were born there, but _piracy?_ "

Matthew snorted. "I was _going_ to give the British the information that I stole, thank you very much. Jesus, you've not changed a bit, Alfred. Still entirely too loyal to the crown that is going to leave you at the mercy of pirates."

Alfred looked to the ground and fell silent.

Antonio shot a glance at Francis and muttered, "If these two keep this up, Francis, I'm going to have more than one reason to kill him."

"Give it time, my friend. It will get better... I hope," Francis whispered. "Maybe they'll make up?"

"Doubtful," Matthew said.

Antonio rolled his eyes and looked towards Gilbert. His friend was, of course, tormenting the poor, annoying Austrian. The Captain groaned inwardly.

"You're a _princess_. I could snap you like a twig," Gilbert goaded.

"You could do no such thing! The skeletal system of a human being is far too strong for someone to 'snap like a twig'," the Austrian said, crossing his arms indignantly over his chest.

Just as Gilbert was about to start a full-fledged argument, Antonio found his saving grace.

"'Tonio!" Francis interrupted. "Where are we staying, my friend?"

Antonio looked at his blond friend and sighed in relief. He'd been saved at least one headache. "There are my quarters, there are the crew's bunks, or there's Bella's cabin. Take your pick."

"I'll bunk with Bella and so with Luddy..." Gilbert said, his fists curled at his sides. "I need to make sure he hasn't gone soft because of the Italian kid of yours. In the meantime, I think I'll torment the Austrian Princess." Gilbert leaned against the wall and started throwing comments at the Austrian, a toothy grin plastered on his face.

Antonio glanced at Francis, who was gazing longingly at the blond Frenchman behind bars. "And you Francis? Am I safe to assume you'd rather share a room with your sister and two obnoxious Germans-"

"The awesome me is _Prussian,_ Toni."

"As if being three miles past the border when you were born makes any difference at all," Antonio shot. "If you would like to stay with a _Prussian_ , a German, and your sister, then be my guest. Otherwise, you can sleep in my cabin. You'll be on the floor, though."

"Awe, we can't share a bed like we did all those years ago, 'Tonio?" Francis lulled suggestively.

"No. We cannot. Your other option is to sleep with my crew, and God only knows what they smell like."

"I _could_ culture them just a bit, 'Tonio. They could use it. Such barbaric men..."

"You will do no such thing. I will not have them going soft on me when they are required to pillage the seven seas. These are the best, most fearsome pirates on the ocean. I will not have them going soft."

"Hey! You definitely do _not_ have the most fearsome crew to sail the seven seas! And if rumors say you are, that's only because you have Bella on your crew, which, if I do say so myself, is an unfair advantage," Gilbert yelled. "That broad is scary. She is fuckin' fearless man, and that is totally not awesome."

"You do remember that that is my sister, right Gilbert?"

The Prussian shrugged.

Antonio rolled his eyes. "Yes, this is the most fearsome crew, and we are not debating the subject otherwise because you _know_ I'll win. And Francis, you are not _culturing_ them. I will not have them going soft." Not like he feared he was going to be...

"But 'Tonio!" Francis whined. "Can't I just make them smell just a little better and give them good wine?"

"Fine. Get them drunk... Tell me how they react. French wine does not get a man drunk correctly..." Antonio muttered, walking back on deck.

The Captain waved his friends away and observed what went on on deck as the light waned. There was much to do, so many people to order around, but his thoughts revolved around the boy in his cabin. He could not return to him, though. He had far too much to do on deck, far too many people to berate. He was sure the majority of his crew would be heading off towards the galley and their quarters by now, but it did not mean he couldn't berate the evening watch. They had let two men amble onto his ship without notifying him. There would be hell to pay. But... He didn't find his usual gusto in his step as he sought out someone to yell at. His thoughts were stuck on the boy... The boy who was asleep in his cabin. He could not disturb Lovino, though. He needed sleep and rest. It was the only way he'd heal.

Instead of seeking out someone to yell at, he walked towards the hull of the ship. His first mate far was too concerned with the slew of chores Antonio had given her to tend to of one of her most important tasks. Instead, Antonio would take care of it. His bare feet let carried him on his way towards his destination. It had been so long since he lit the lantern that guided them through the night. With strong, calloused hands from many years of working at sea, Antonio climbed upon the figurehead of _Anna Maria_. He walked along her back until he was close enough to reach the lantern in her hand. He slipped his hand into the pocket of his pants and took a book of matches from its confines. He kept them on him in case he ever needed to smoke a cigarette. Tonight was not one of those nights. He had another venture ahead of him. He lit the match and leaned into the lantern. He lit the oil and pulled his hand back quickly. A flame grew along the oil, burning steadily. Antonio watched it glow in the coming darkness. The flames danced easily within their confines. The Captain blew out the match he held and dropped it into the sea. _Anna Maria_ was going to guide him through yet another night.

The Captain walked slowly and quietly to his cabin, his bare feet padding noiselessly against the worn wood. He had stayed up the entire night as well as the day to follow. It had been a long stretch of wakefulness, and his crew didn't seem to help. No matter how fearsome they seemed, they all had birds for brains. Francis and Gilbert were no help, either. He couldn't recall what crazed idea had led him to allow those two to have lodgings on his ship when the _Lili Marlene_ and _Le Bateau de la Rose_ were so close by. It was surely an idiotic one. The two not only got his entire crew drunk just as the sun set, but they also got them _singing and dancing_. This sort of behavior was not usually tolerated on his ship, but he had to condone it this one time because Bella had joined in. His hardened first mate was _dancing_. He'd let it slide for the evening, but as soon as the sun was up, the yelling would commence. If they felt the need to become _cultured_ on Francis' shit wine and Gilbert's piss excuse for beer, then they'd reap the consequences, those being a nasty hangover and their Captain's wrath. Neither would hold any sort of delight, Antonio was going to be sure of that.

Antonio had not a drop to drink that entire day. It was clearly affecting his mood. He was grumpy. He was irritable. He was frustrated. The lack of sleep was clearly getting to him. His mind had not been in the right place, either. Far too often it had wandered back to Lovino, who he had not seen since the day before. Antonio had said he'd be back sometime after nightfall, but he couldn't bring himself to face the boy. He didn't want to view the aftermath of the torture he'd endured. Not yet. He didn't have enough alcohol in his system. There was that and the fact that he couldn't get away from his needy best friends. This was the first time Antonio was going to relax in a long while.

Antonio shut the door of his cabin quietly and leaned against it, releasing a large sigh. He took a swig of the bottle of rum he had snagged on the way there and closed his eyes. He was finally back in the peace and quiet of his cabin after yet another day of hell. He was finally back to the place where his thoughts had wandered when he didn't keep them in check. Antonio's green eyes opened and wandered off towards Lovino who was laying on Antonio's bed right where he had left him. The Spaniard pushed himself off the door and walked over to him. He softly placed a palm to his forehead after brushing a few stray strands of his hair from his brow. His skin was an average temperature to the touch. He wasn't feverish. Antonio released a sigh of relief. It was safe to assume that the boy's wounds were not yet infected. He wouldn't die on Antonio's watch. He allowed a smile to creep onto his lips briefly, but the moment did not contain enough brevity to escape the eyes of some.

"Do you find it thrilling to play doctor and smile creepily down at younger men? You're a perverted bastard..." Lovino muttered, his lids barely crack.

Antonio flicked the boy on the forehead petulantly with his spare hand. "I was only checking to see if you were feverish. As far as I can tell, you are not, and therefore you can leave my cabin. That means I get my bed back, and I can sleep. By the grace of God does that make me happy. You are dismissed."

Lovino's brow wrinkled from the flick but immediately shot up at the thought of moving.

"You expect me to move... Right now?" Lovino asked in a small voice. The idea obviously seemed insane to him.

"That is what the term 'dismissed' means, is it not?"

Lovino nodded briefly and made some attempt to mask the scowl on his features. Antonio saw it anyways. He watched the boy push himself off of the bedding. He only made it a few inches before his shaking limbs collapsed beneath him.

"Your words are strong, but you yourself are weak. I'd be careful in the future. Your actions lead you to such situations in which you are left vulnerable." Antonio leaned in closer to the boy and brush some his hair back from his forehead with his ringed fingers once more. "You don't have a fever, but that might not always be the case. Your body doesn't seem to have any infections, but I want to keep it that way. If you can, come lay down on my desk. I'm going to clean and bind your wounds."

Lovino made another attempt to sit up, and Antonio stood back and watched. He was already showing plenty of kindness. He needn't show anymore. He was grumpy enough already. The boy grimaced as he tried to lift himself for the second time. His arms collapsed beneath him, and he didn't move again.

"Can't you stop being an ass and help me? I'm in pain," Lovino retorted, his teeth grinding audibly.

Something tugged at Antonio's heartstrings. It might have been the pitiful state Lovino was in. It could have been the sound of agony in his voice. Hell, it could have been the lack of alcohol in his system. It could have been anything. All Antonio knew was that he was instantly helping Lovino from the bed. He wrapped an arm around his waist and laid the boy's hand over his shoulder. He walked him over to his desk which was still clear from the day previous. He laid the boy down, careful not to spill the bottle of rum in his hand. He was going to need it.

"Brace yourself. This will hurt."

Antonio poured the alcohol over the boy's back not even a second later. Scabs had already started to form over the raw skin. He hoped it was a sure sign that he would not receive and life-threatening infections. Scabs kept the bacteria out. They'd help him stay alive. All the while as Antonio cleaned the wounds, Lovino squirmed. He made an effort to keep quiet, though. The Captain assumed that he no longer wanted to appear weak after being accused of it so many times.

"How do you know how to do this?" Lovino asked in a quiet voice, his teeth gritted.

Antonio shrugged his shoulders as he walked away. "It's simple..." he muttered, grabbing some clean cloth from a nearby cabinet. He also grabbed an assortment of herbs, as well as a mortar, pestle, and fresh water.

"But you know that I don't have any infections just because of the temperature of my forehead."

"The edges of your wounds would have been red and inflamed if they were. Your veins would also be an inflamed red around your skin. Seeing as they are not, you have no infection."

"And you know that, too. _How?_ "

Antonio sighed as he set the items on his chair behind his desk. He was avoiding his questions like wildfire. He did not want to brush those topics. They were too painful, too real.

"You can't just-"

"I can do as I wish when I wish. This is _my_ ship. I don't want to hear your questions. Be quiet."

Lovino fell silent, another scowl plastering itself on his features. Antonio ignored them and took up the herbs, picking through them. He put a few into the mortar and round them into a power. After, he added a small amount of water and mixed it a bit until it was a greenish-brown paste. He removed his man rings from his fingers and set them aside in a drawer in his desk. He then took the paste into his hand and began to slowly spread it across the boy's back. He heard Lovino sigh in relief as the soothing substance touched his wounds. A smile tugged onto the Captain's mouth. He found that he was smiling more and more as the days went on. Something was changing him in some way. It couldn't be because of the Italian. It couldn't be... There had to be a rational reason.

"You know about this, how to do this. An ordinary pirate captain wouldn't know jack shit about medicine. Tell me."

Antonio's fingers hesitated over the boy's skin for a moment as he closed his eyes. He let a sigh escape his lips. His resolve was weakening once again. His finger went back to work again as he began to speak. "When I was young-"

"You're still rather young," Lovino interrupted.

Antonio was flatter, surely, but now was not the time. "Shut up," he snapped. What was with everyone interrupting him lately? He began again a moment later. "When I was _younger_ , I thought I could save the world. I _wanted_ to save the world. I became a physician, a doctor, at the age of twenty."

Lovino stared over his shoulder at Antonio with an irritated expression. "You were a physician?" The Captain nodded, rubbing he salve on the boy's back once again. He hadn't realized he had stopped while he was speaking. Next, he coated his wrists. "If you were a physician, then why the hell did you become a pirate-bastard?"

"As I said, I wanted to save the world. I was good when I began my practice, but I was by no means amazing. I practiced in a relatively small town set apart from the main kingdom. The king was not fond of physicians because he thought only God could heal the sick. I was based in a small area, but still, I was proud that I was at least helping the small few I could," Antonio said with a wistful smile. "That same year, influenza swept Spain. It wiped out most of the kingdom. I appealed to the King to allow me to practice medicine. I _wanted_ to save these people. _His_ people were dying, and all we needed was medicine. We could get it from China. Maybe France or England. Somewhere. He denied me that freedom. He said my work was the work of the devil. He said he'd allowed us, physicians, to work with a select few, but those who came to us worshiped the devil. It was insane. I was turned away as a heretic. I went back again and again... Each time I was turned away as a heretic. I had a family at home I cared about. I wanted to protect them from the disease... But I couldn't. My sister caught the influenza, and after trying to help her to no avail, a final time I went back. In order to stop my heresy, he imprisoned me. I was behind bars for what seemed like years, but it was only a short month. In that time, she died. She died holding my mother's hand. She was only thirteen..." Tears had formed in the corners of Antonio's eyes, and he dashed them away with the back of his clean hand. Lovino had not asked for his entire life story, but he needed to give premise to his change in career. "I became a pirate because I wanted to protect the common folk from people like the King, the rich, selfish bastards that sit on the asses on their thrones and run our beautiful countries. They make poor decisions that get their people killed. I thought by becoming a pirate that I could help them."

"Then why did you take us?"

Antonio ignored the question. "Sit up," he commanded, wiping his hands on a clean shred of fabric.

Lovino complied, slowly sitting up on the edge of the desk. Antonio grabbed the clean fabric from where he had left it on his chair.

"Hold your hands on your head." Once again, Lovino did as he was asked. Antonio began to wrap the fabric around his waist and chest to cover the wounds from his lashings.

"Answer my question," Lovino grumbled.

Antonio stepped in front of the boy and kept wrapping him in the soft, clean fabric. Bella had wrapped Antonio in the same substance many times before. "My views have changed and skewed as the years have gone by," he said quietly, attempting to concentrate on what his hands were doing. "The practice of being a doctor was not for me and neither was the practice of kind piracy. I realized that I am not kind enough of those acts. I no longer fight for anyone but myself and those that ask me for my help. Of all of the people I tried to save from the monarchy, all turned me away. They were afraid. They trusted their King to protect them when in reality, he'd send them to their graves at a moment's notice." Antonio's voice grew quiet as he began to wrap Lovino's wrists. His words were empty and devoid of emotion. "If they didn't care what the monarchy was doing to them, then why should I?"

"Because you believed in something noble." Lovino said those words as if they were the simplest things in the world.

The Captain laughed. "Noble? That word has no meaning to me."

"Then why are you helping me?"

"You're money to me," Antonio admitted, confirming the boy's suspicion from the night before. The words were rolling off of his tongue before he could snatch them back up. He knew they were false in a sense, but at the same time, they felt right. He knew he had to help the boy. It wasn't right to hurt him like that... To let him suffer. But Antonio was far too tired and exhausted to care anymore. He was too tired to be kind. He hadn't slept in so long... He desperately needed a drink. "I can't have you dying on me, now can I?"

Those amber eyes saw directly through him and his tiredness. "You're lying."

"I'm not."

"Then you've changed your mind. You wouldn't be this kind-"

"Enough!" Antonio snapped. "I have no reason for you other than the money you and your brother bring me."

"You're such an emotional, bipolar drunk! It's when I can't smell the rum on your breath that you're _nicer_. But as soon as you get just a drop of alcohol into your system, you turn into a real dick. Maybe if you weren't such an alcoholic, you could find it in yourself to be kind, but I'm sure you could never stop yourself. You've become too reliant on that piss because it's the only way you can drown out the pain and sorrow you feel. I've hardly ever seen you without a bottle in your hand. I think last night was one of the first. I think you're too afraid to put it down because you'll have to come to terms with all of the shit you've done over the years. You're too afraid to be _weak_. You get off making others feel that way, but it's really just a mask to make yourself feel better. It's a cold, harsh reality that you need to learn. What would you rather have? People fearing you and your name or people who love you for your kindness? Do you think that is what your _sister_ would have wanted? I doubt she would have wanted her brother to become an alcoholic bastard-"

A slap rang through the air. Antonio hadn't realized it at first, but it was his hand striking the boy. "You know nothing of the trials of life. You're just a pampered brat who lives under the protection of his grandfather's money. You know not of my kindness or how I live my life. You only know what I've allowed your sorrowful ass to glimpse. Don't you dare say what she would have wanted. You never knew her. She's dead, and you won't ever know her."

The words slipped from his lips before he could catch them. He had no grasp of what spewed on his lips that night. That irritated the Captain, but he ignored it. He needed to be cruel. He could not become soft. He _would_ _not._ He had spent too many years trying to forget, drinking away his pain. He hated this boy for being right, for seeing through him so easily. Antonio picked up Lovino's wrists and tied off the fabric before stepping away. He could not be weak... These thoughts and feelings that Lovino pointed out and brought on made him weak. It was a feeling he never wanted to feel again. Helpless and incompetent.

"Do you feel pain?" the Captain said, leading the boy back towards his bed.

"No," Lovino replied.

"It's working then." Antonio turned away from Lovino and walked to his wardrobe. He took his coat from the hanger in which it hung and slipped it over his arms. It was his protection, his comfort. He opened the drawer of his desk and slipped his rings back onto his fingers. He grabbed the bottle of rum from his deck and then opened the door to his cabin. "Get some sleep. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow. Long days ahead of you for the next few until we reach Tortuga."

Antonio left the room and walked out onto the deck. The moon was high in the sky. It showed a little in its crescent form, but the Captain did not care. He preferred to be shrouded in darkness. He did not deserve to be touched by the beauty. He walked slowly to the hull of the ship and sat on the lede. His green eyes wandered to the sky. They focused on the stars above him. In all of their majesty and beauty, the stars held so much mystery. They had secrets. They had seen so much, and locked within their fiery glow were their stories. They never told them, and they never released them, just as Antonio did with his own past. Antonio held so much just behind his eyes of emerald. He hid his life behind them, just as Lovino tried to do. Lovino's eyes... They held tales of woe and bravery, happiness and depression, pain and suffering. For some reason, he found himself drawing nearer to the boy despite the weakness his company was bound to bring. He wanted to know every story that was behind Lovino's eyes. He craved to know the secrets of the boy behind those perfect voids of color. He could not explain why it was so sudden, his attraction to the boy over the last few days. He only knew that each mystery had to be explained and each lock had to be opened or he would never feel the satisfaction of living.

There was only one reason behind this. In some strange way, Lovino had managed to break into Antonio's heart of ice. He had managed to chip away at the layers. He had managed to create a snowball of emotion within the Spaniard. Once the snowball started rolling, it was never going to stop until it became an avalanche. Antonio was changing, and it was because, for the first time in seven years, he had been told the truth. The truth was painful, but it was going to change him.

And so there he sat in the light of the moon, his bare feet dangling over the edge of the _Wandering Anna Maria_ and a bottle of rum in his hands. He brought it to his lips to take a drink but found that it did not bring him the warming comfort it used to. Antonio looked at the bottle for a moment before chucking it over the side of the ship. Antonio hugged himself, all alone in that darkness. For the first time in seven years, Antonio the Conquistador cried.

 **A/N/: So. That concludes chapter three. It's really early this week. I wasn't expecting it to be out until late Friday night. But here we are.**

 **The name _Lili Marlene_ belongs to Dame Vera Lynn. The majority of the name of Francis' ship belongs George DeValier, my Hetalia Hero.**

 **As for the content of this chapter, yes that is why Antonio is a royal dick. He's an alcoholic. It's canon that he's a scary drinker. So. Yup. I dropped hints all over the place. But yeah. I'm just going to say it out right because Lovino pointed it out. I hope you liked this chapter. It's the longest by far... 18 pages in word. Holy butt. Okay. Bye**

 **~Gra** vey


	4. Chapter 4

_Antonio_

At least a week had passed since the incident with Lovino and his crew. His wounds were healing. He had regained plenty of his mobility. His moods had even improved slightly. But one thing hadn't changed. The Captain was cruel to him. At any moment he had, he sent the boy to do more work. Scrub the deck, do the dishes, take stock of the cargo down below. He wanted to see the boy in his cabin as seldom as possible. He had been held up there, 'working', for many days. He was avoiding Lovino and drinking to his heart's content. He hadn't resorted to old habits, and he found that as time passed and he fell deeper into drunken oblivion, that he couldn't face the kid. He brought about too many unwanted memories. He was ashamed of himself, but he could do nothing of it. The bottle called to him. It was a comfort after a rough day. It was a necessity.

The door to his cabin crashed open and his head shot up. In walked Gilbert and Francis. He sighed and put down the bottle that resided in his hand before rubbing his eyes wearily.

"What are you two still doing here?" he asked with a resigned sigh. "I could have sworn you went on with your ships yesterday morning."

"We did, and now we're back, mon copain," Francis said, sitting with a flourish that defined him.

"You're going out tonight. You've been hiding inside of your room for days, and I don't see how _that_ is awesome. And it's all because of what? Some kid? Get up. We're going to port. Bring the crew, bring the kid. _Do_ _something!_ " Gilbert demanded.

"I'm staying right here, and so is my crew. We're going to Tortuga to get supplies, then I have plans to attack a ship from the British Royal Navy before I head to the _Land's End_ to meet Augustus in four weeks time."

"You can do that any other day. They're always sending their shit ships out of Port Royal," the albino protested.

"Besides, you have _four weeks_ until that rendezvous. You should relax in Tortuga for that time. Have some work done on _Anna Maria_? After that battle with the British, she could use a bit of love," Francis persuaded.

Antonio looked at them both with hardened emerald eyes. "I'm attacking that ship, and that is final."

Gilbert let out one more futile groan of frustration and fell silent. Antonio picked up his quill and began staring at the blank parchment in front of him. He took a swig off of the bottle of rum, too. He was bored, but he could account for nothing, predict nothing, plan nothing. If they were to go to port he could only predict the undeniable and inevitable event of his drunkenness. He sighed and glanced upward only to find Francis and gilbert exchanging knowing looks and nods. Antonio cleared his throat and raised his brows at the two.

"Is there something you two need to tell me?"

"Toni, we have some important news to tell you..." Gilbert began. "Francis and I are sorry to admit this, but-"

" _I'm_ not _terribly_ sorry," Francis drawled.

"Shut up. _I'm_ sorry to admit this, Toni, but we've come to the conclusion that you are, in fact, gay.

The Captain looked at the two of his friends, perplexed. "You've known me for years, and you're only deciding this now?"

"We've known you for years and you've never once slept with a woman," Francis stated, crossing his right leg over his left. "Besides, I have a knack for guessing these things, mon copain. I've been suspecting this for a while."

"Just because you enjoy sleeping with men does not mean _I_ do.," Antonio snapped. "And I have your sister to bang." Antonio shrugged and offered his currently enraged-looking friend a snarky smile. He shouldn't have made jabs at Antonio's love life. Though he hadn't slept with Bella in quite a while. She was avoiding him after nightfall. Francis didn't need to know that. It was probably his fault. He had been around constantly.

"How do I know you're telling the truth? She's been sleeping in her room with Gilbert, Ludwig, and I all week," Francis snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. He was clearly disturbed.

"I don't think she wanted to admit that she was sleeping with her brother's best friend whilst said brother was around," Antonio grumbled.

"Bro, that's seriously wrong. You shouldn't sleep with your best friend's sister," Gilbert stated. "You're still gay, though."

"How?"

"Bella has been the only beautiful thing that walked across your ship in the last - what - five years? I _mean_ she _is_ related to _me_ ," Francis chided. He then continued on. "Now that you've got that Italian on your ship, you don't need her. You've discovered your true infatuation with that boy, and she sees that."

"And that concludes that I am gay?"

"Yes," they said in unison.

"I can't just find something like avoiding chaos on my ship more important than sex?"

" _Nothing_ is more important that sex," Francis said. "Aside from loyalty and friends, of course."

"I am _not_ gay!" Antonio yelled in frustration.

"Then come to Tortuga, 'Tonio! Go sleep with one of the beautiful local girls that are not my sister," Francis urged. "You're a handsome devil _like myself_. I'm sure you could easily get one."

"I don't want to _get one_ ," the Captain said.

"Because you're gay, and the only person you _want_ to sleep with is that kid. Face it, Toni. Embrace it," Gilbert said, making some vain attempt to sound wise.

"Am not," Antonio protested.

"Then prove it. Prove you're not queer like Francis."

The Frenchman was unaffected by the comment. He merely shrugged Gilbert of and looked to Antonio with a promising stare.

"I don't need anyone. I have my beloved _Anna Maria_. She keeps me company," Antonio said, leaning back in his chair. He took another swig off of the bottle of rum on his desk.

"Toni, that's just unhealthy. You're in love with a _ship_ ," Gilbert stated.

"I wouldn't say that I'm in _love_ with her. That's just wrong on so many levels. It's more like... The only thing that I have _time_ to care about."

"Okay. I'm hurt. I am very much hurt," Gilbert said, feigning offense. "But seriously, bro. That's still unhealthy."

"Just come to Tortuga, my friend," Francis pleaded.

Antonio loosed a groan and gave a reluctant nod. "Fine, but on one condition. You have to babysit the Austrian Princess, your French informant, the older Italian, and the annoying British Captain."

"Why not the younger Italian?" Gilbert asked.

"I'm sure your brother will have both his eyes and hands all over him." Ludwig had been spending his every waking moment with Feliciano that he could. He had even convinced Antonio to allow him to take him aboard the _Lili Marlene_.

"I hate to admit this to you, Gilbert," Francis lulled, "but from the way Ludwig looks at that boy... I can tell he cares more about Feliciano than he lets on. He's _more_ than just a friend."

"Bullshit! You know nothing!"

"Believe as you wish, mon copain, but understand this. I _know_."

"Remind me again why we have to watch them?" Gilbert asked, shooting Francis a look as if daring him to return to the previous subject.

"Because I can't just bring them with me and then go off with a girl." Antonio gazed at them for a moment before taking another sip of rum. His gaze narrowed. "I don't _want_ to bring them at all, but I can't exactly leave them on the ship because of Alfred and your little lover, Francis, seem crafty enough to break out with the other three in tow. So you're staying here and babysitting."

"So, it's not an option to bring them with?" Francis asked.

"No. With your luck, you'll get drunk, and they'll escape. I don't trust you two enough when you drink."

"Yet you can drink every day and not worry about a thing," Gilbert deadpanned.

"I'm good at it. I don't run off with random local girls when I'm supposed to be distracting a certain British captain," Antonio reminded.

"That was _one time!_ "

"Yea and Arthur nearly took off my head. Point is, you're staying here."

"Toni, what good is drinking if it's not with your two best mates?" Gilbert asked, attempting to sway the stern look on Antonio's face.

The fun in drinking? It took away all of his emotion. It allowed him to be the conquistador he had made himself out to be. It made him ruthless and cold. It allowed him to live with the guilt. He knew that... But the Captain also knew he had many good days drinking when he was younger. When they were fifteen, they had met and gone backpacking across the countrysides of Spain, France, and Prussia with the little money that they had. They drank, sang, laughed, and wreaked havoc across those countrysides... When they couldn't afford an inn, they slept on whatever hillside that they could find. When they came across a farm, they worked it for a few days just to fill their stomachs. For them, it was a period of freedom and blissful ignorance. Antonio had yet to know the pain of loss. Francis had yet to learn of the disciplines of the military. Gilbert had yet to discover the agony of imprisonment and torture. Antonio craved those days again, the days where he only worried about meals and where to sleep. Gilbert was trying to bring those back, and unfortunately, he was winning.

Antonio sighed heavily and conceded, "You two are responsible for the other four. And you best keep an eye on both the Italian and your little Frenchman, Francis. They're boy crafty. Gilbert, you watch the Austrian Princess and the British captain."

"Why do I have to take the crab ass?" Francis protested.

"Because he's prone to escape. Besides, I trust you more than I do Gilbert when it comes to him. Gilbert will get too drunk."

"Hey! I am _so_ responsible. I could watch the Italian."

"I don't care _who_ watches him, but if you allow him to escape, you'll not only go after him, but you'll also be paying me his weight in gold," Antonio snapped, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He took another long sip of the rum and shook his head. "Make it twice his weight. He's light..."

"Done," Gilbert said with a smirk.

"Why do you need more money, my friend? You are plenty rich," Francis stated.

"I need to pay someone off," he muttered, looking back to the parchment on his desk. The document before him was blank even after hours of sitting there. "My funds for that might need to be limitless."

"Who?" they asked in unison.

"Allistor..." he said, setting down his quill after the extended period of time of holding it. "He believes that Augustus will hire his services, and Allistor's only loyalty is to gold. He'd hunt me down in a moment after I return those boys if it meant buying the rest of his life's freedom and wealth."

"You're afraid of him?" Francis asked.

"No," the Captain said. "I'm just cautious. I will not fall to his hand. I will not fall to those in power who abuse others with it. I can't allow it, and if Allistor works for Augustus Vargas..."

"Antonio, it's unhealthy for you to hate this much. What happened to the carefree kid we used to know? I swear. You become more badass, but you also get scarier," the albino muttered.

"Times have changed," the Spaniard said with a shrug, "I've changed." But deep down he knew the answer...

"Mon copain, it has been seven years," Francis whispered. "In those seven years, your moral have changed. You'd never hurt anyone before..."

More people tearing apart his life and his choices and beating them to ground. If they could notice, surely his sister in Heaven would... He had thought he'd done well at guarding himself and his emotions, but no. They had noticed, and it only made him angrier. He slammed the rum bottle down on the table. "Yes, and? Francis, Gilbert. I've changed, and my morals have changed. I'm not some naïve child anymore. Do me a favor and tell me anything but what I am doing wrong. You tell me every little nuance in my life is unhealthy. For once, why don't you tell me what I am doing right?"

"I'll tell you what you can do right tonight. You can let go for one night, 'Tonio, mon copain, and you can go to Tortuga."

Gilbert learned into Francis and muttered, "If we're going to Tortuga, you're still taking the grumpy little shit. I'm not putting up with his shit. I have plans."

Antonio rolled his eyes. How he had ever allowed himself to fall victim to these two, he'd never know. They often caused him more stress than it was worth. Sometimes, however, on nights like this one, they simply tried to get him to loosen up. He sighed gently and looked at his friends. "Fine. We are going to Tortuga."

They reached the place for most of the pirate activity in the Atlantic and the Caribbean just as the sun was setting. They had reached Tortuga. It was one of the few scattered safe havens for people of his kind, pirates. It was hidden in the Caribbean. He had been coming there to resupply for years. Now he had come for a night of frivolity. And to spark a deal...

The Captain's crew had already dispersed throughout the port. All that remained were the nine of them. Or rather eight...

"Well I'll be bloody damned!" a drawling British voice called.

A child ran down Antonio's spine. He knew that voice. He knew it too damned well. He could place it anywhere. It was one that had haunted his dreams for the entirety of his youth and for the many months that passed since the last time he had heard it. It was the voice of one of the few men that truly scared the Spanish captain. It belonged to a man that he preferred to forget.

"Arthur, mi amigo!" Antonio said, turning on his heel to face the bushy-browed captain. "What a pleasant surprise, seeing you. It's been how long? Five years, no?"

"Six. With an additional five months and three days, but who is counting?"

"Obviously not you," Antonio said. He glanced back at Gilbert and Francis. They held on fiercely to their captives, but they were apprehensive under the green-eyed gaze of the British captain of the _Emerald Lion_ all the same.

"I trust that after all this time you have the money you stole from me, correct?"

Antonio offered a forced grin. It was foolish to hope that the blond had forgotten. "I wouldn't call it stealing so much as borrowing, mi amigo, but think as you may. It's all the same with you and your brother. Your only loyalty is gold and not old friends, mi amigo."

"I did not approach you to talk about that lazy sod, Allistor. And I am not your 'amigo', so kindly refrain from calling me that. I'd not catch myself befriending a thief."

"We are all thieves, us pirates, no? When has there ever been any honor among us?"

"Where is my month, Anthony?" Arthur drew his sword an expert sort of carelessness.

Antonio heard Francis and Gilbert begin to draw their own, but he raised a ringed hand to stop them.

"I'm sure we can come to some agreement, no?"

"No, you bloody wank stain. I want the money you stole from-" Arthur suddenly stopped, his gaze widening. Antonio turned to look at what he was staring at. Or who. Alfred stood staring at Arthur with an equally wide gaze.

"Give him here, Anthony," Arthur demanded.

Antonio allowed a cheshire-like grin to appear on his lips. "Arthur, _mi amigo_ , I have recently acquired this _charming_ Royal Navy captain. I am willing to trade him to you in lieu of the debt I owe you."

Antonio braced himself for the argument that would inevitably-

"Done."

"What?" Antonio asked.

"It's a deal."

Antonio stared at Arthur for a moment and then shrugged. He grabbed Alfred by the cuffs that bound his wrists and pushed him towards Arthur.

Arthur sheathed his blade and offered a hand to Antonio. "It was a pleasure doing business with you, Anthony."

Suddenly a flash of blond wrapped itself around Alfred. It was Matthew.

"Be careful Alfred..." the Frenchman said.

"Heh. I'll be fine. I'm the hero, remember?" Alfred said. "If I make it out alive, remember not to be a stranger. Don't make it another few years before I see you."

"I won't.." Matthew said.

"Francis, you _daft cow_ , get control of your lover," Arthur drawled. "I haven't got all day."

As told, Francis took hold of Matthew and pulled him away from his brother. Antonio watched as the pair of blonds walked away. He was glad of it, too. That meant one less mouth to feed on his ship. It also meant that he had one less debt to pay. There was one less pair of bickering brothers aboard as well.

"I've no idea how I ever thought those brows were attractive. They literally take up half of his forehead..." Francis muttered.

Antonio snorted and rolled his eyes. "Let's get moving before someone else with a well-known grudge against me finds us."

And then there were eight. Ludwig was in charge of watching Feliciano. Francis had Lovino and his little informant. Gilbert was keeping an eye on the Austrian Princess. And so their night began...

 _Ludwig_

 _ **The Tale of Tomatoes and Missing Schnapps**_

Ludwig hadn't expected the events of the last few days to happen. He hadn't expected to get close to the young boy named Feliciano. It was never his intention. He had never wanted to become so attached. His goal was to make the kid less afraid. Those goals had been more than successful, but they also came with repercussions he wasn't sure he could wrap his mind around.

Words were exchanged upon Antonio's ship between him and Gilbert the night following when he was found wiping the tears from the boy's cheek. They had argued over Ludwig's intentions with the young Italian. The problem was... He didn't really know. The Italian was a light in a very dark world. He was a beacon of happiness. He always laughed, always smiled. Ludwig craved that glow in his eyes. Feliciano didn't see him as a scary brute like most others did. He saw past his façade. Ludwig only wished that the boy did not have to go through some of the horrors that he faced.

Antonio, a dear friend of his, had stolen the boy from his home. No. Bella had stolen him, he corrected himself. She had roused him from his bed and led him from his home. The boy must have been ghost white with fear, but for some reason, Ludwig couldn't be more grateful.

In the days that had passed, Ludwig found himself craving the boy's presence. He was so young, only sixteen, but he was also so alluring. Ludwig was four years his senior, but age didn't matter to him. All that matter was that he was around, his light, his Feliciano. They were in Tortuga, and he was under Ludwig's care. They could go anywhere, and Ludwig decided a little place where his brother was unlikely to go.

"Ludwig!" Feliciano cried through waves of excitement. "Look at this! We're on _land!_ I missed the land. It's so much less rocky. It doesn't make me feel sick! Oh, Ludwig! Where are we going?"

"We're going to a small place to have a drink. Life on the seas is stressful..." Ludwig trailed off, his blue eyes locating the little, bouncing Italian.

"Will they have wine? Grandpa lets me drink wine. I like wine, but only because Grandpa makes good wine."

"Ja, Feliciano, they will have wine, but I don't think that it will be a Vargas original."

"That's okay. It will be good so long as I have good company to drink it with," the Italian beamed, smiling happily at Ludwig.

Ludwig's heart skipped a beat as he watched Feliciano smile. That smile was directed at him, and it felt so... Enlightening. He couldn't help but watch him. He had such an enchanting smile. It drew him in and held him in place. It made him want nothing more to cause it to happen again, and with how happy the boy usually seemed to be, that was easy enough.

They reached the bar after a few minutes. When they entered, they sat at a table in the center of the room. A woman in a tight corset took their orders. She brought them back to the pale-haired ginger behind the counter before returning with their drinks. Feliciano got his wine, and Ludwig stuck received his rum, a look of dismay reading on his features.

"What do you like to drink?" Feliciano asked suddenly. He then tacked on, "You don't seem to like what you ordered."

Ludwig allowed a ghost of a smile to spread onto his lips. The boy was always so perceptive. "Nothing you would like. Nothing they have here," he replied.

"But what is it?"

"Schnapps."

"Can I try it sometime?"

"It's an acquired taste."

"I still would like to try it."

"Ja, you can," Ludwig said with rueful hope, "one day."

They sat and talked amicably. Ludwig noticed how easily Feliciano emptied his glass. He must have at least gone through a bottle. He didn't care about the cost. He simply did not want the Italian to drink more than he was able. He looked upon Feliciano with a worried expression as he tried to lift himself from the table.

"I need to use the bathroom," he said, wobbling slightly.

"Feliciano, are you okay?" Ludwig asked. He could tell that the boy did not have a high tolerance for alcohol. He was so thin, so small.

"Yeah... I'm justa lil' dizzy," he said with thickly accented and slurred words. "I really need to pee..."

The Italian stood up slowly and stumbled. He caught himself on the table, and Ludwig was at his side with a steadying grasp almost immediately.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"Mhmm..." the Italian assured him. And then he stopped. "Nope. I am not okay. I feel sick..."

"Come on, I'm taking you upstairs..."

Ludwig picked Feliciano up in his arms and carried him to the bar. He spoke to the bartender briefly and paid for a room for the night. He carried the Italian upstairs, ignoring the stares he received from the other patrons of the bar. Up the stairs brought little Feliciano until he was at the door of his room. He opened. It was a little shabby, but it'd do. He laid Feliciano down and stood by his bedside. The boy was already falling asleep. Ludwig brushed his hair from his forehead and smiled down at him gently.

"You shouldn't drink so much. You'll get sick..." the German said softly.

"I'll be okay, Ludwig," the boy replied.

He nodded and made a move to leave. "I'll be back soon. I'm going to go get you some water. Stay here, Feliciano."

As Ludwig began to move, Feliciano's warm fingers caught his hand.

"Please stay with me, Ludwig," the boy said with heavily lidded brown eyes. "Just until I fall asleep, please?"

Ludwig nodded with another smile falling upon his lips and sat down on the bed beside Feliciano. "Okay..." he said softly.

The Italian curled into the German and smiled softly. Ludwig smiled back. He loved the Italian. Feliciano may not have known it yet, but this small boy held his heart.

 _Francis_

 _ **The Tale of Rose and Wine**_

Francis was in charge of two tonight under the orders of one of his two best friends. He did not mind. He'd finally learn whether or not the Spaniard was more inclined to fall in love with men. He was almost positive he was. He hoped for it. It might force him to lighten up just a little. Plus he would love for his best friend to stop sleeping with his sister... Which was who he was going to dump the eldest Italian on. He wanted to have a night alone with his beloved Mathieu who was locked away upstairs in his rented room.

He found his sister milling around outside, smoking a cigarette. He approached her with his arm wrapped around Lovino's shoulder.

"Bella, darling!" he exclaimed, blue eyes meeting green. He kissed his sister's cheek before gracing her with a dazzling smile.

"I'm not taking the kid, Francis," she said after taking a long drag off of her cigarette. How _attractive_ of her to be smoking in public.

"Bella darling, please, help your brother out, oui?"

"Franny quit being a lazy prick and do it yourself. It's not as if you have anything better to do anyways."

"I actually do have better things that I could be doing."

"What?" she asked, raising a blonde brow. "Banging your _boyfriend_?"

Francis scrunched his nose. When had his sister become so... raunchy? He would certainly have to blame Antonio for this.

"Please, chér, can't you do it?"

Bella sighed, visibly annoyed. "What's in it for me?" The female tossed her hair, allowing some of it to fall behind her ear.

"I'll be you a new dress or something, mon chér. Don't ladies like that sort of thing?" he asked with a hopeful expression.

"Make that a new sword, finely crafted and a few bottles of wine, and you've got yourself a deal, Franny."

"What did piracy do to you, darling? I could have sworn you disliked drinking."

"It's not for me. It's for the kid," she said, her eyes shifting towards Lovino.

"Chér, I seem to recall you looking rather stunning in that wedding dress of yours. Whatever happened? The last I heard of it was that you showed up on Antonio's ship in the gown. Why did you not marry?"

"I gave it up for a life of freedom," Bella said with a nonchalant shrug, but Francis could see the pain behind her green eyes. "I wasn't going to marry some pig at nineteen."

"If I remember correctly, that so-called pig was a nice gentleman. You've spent the last six years on Antonio's ship without speaking of the incident. What happened?"

"He was a child. He could hardly keep his face clean while he ate, Franny. Careless, I swear," she said, dropping her cigarette and stubbing it out with the toe of her boot. "Besides, I never really cared for men with brown hair."

"Yet you are sleeping with my best friend?" And there it was, the question that had been burning away at his mind.

Bella shrugged again. "He's there. He's easy to get to. He's good in bed, don't get me wrong, but I don't love him. I think we may have had feelings for each other at some point in time..." She shrugged again. "Like I said, he's just there when life on these seas gets strenuous."

"You're turning into me, and I'm not sure how I feel about that," Francis said, handing Bella a handful of coins. It'd be enough to buy a few bottles of wine.

Bella offered him a dazzling smile and took hold of Lovino's arm. "Come on, chér, let's go get you something to drink." Bella stopped to look at her brother. "I expect that sword, soon Francis."

Then she was gone.

And so Francis went back into the inn. He had left his petit informateur upstairs while he spoke to his sister. He was going to go back to him in a few moments. First, he walked to the bar and ordered the best wine he could find at the place as well as two glasses. He paid the pale-haired ginger and started upstairs. He carried the two full glasses in his hands and the bottle under his arm. He wanted his Mathieu, he craved him, but he had no idea how the younger male would react. He could turn Francis away entirely.

He walked down the hall towards the room where he had left his beloved. Carefully he opened the door and looked upon his Frenchman.

"Mathieu!" he said happily.

The bespectacled man remained silent.

Francis sighed slightly and held out a glass to him. "Please, mon chér, take the glass as a token of peace."

The male took the wine with his free hand. The other was cuffed to the metal frame of the bed. He took a sip but still said nothing.

"Please speak to me, mon chér," Francis pleaded.

"I have nothing to say to you."

This was a start. "Pourquoi?"

"Let us think, oui? You had me locked away on a pirate's ship. Now you are dragging me around with your crazed group of companions. I was perfectly happy in the British countryside where I was staying."

"Where every French captain had sent his men to look for you?" Francis asked.

"I would have evaded them."

"But you could not evade me. I am the best of the best when it comes to the King's navy," Francis boasted, taking a small sip of his wine.

"You came in the middle of the night. I let my guard down and fell asleep. I was foolish," Matthew said bitterly.

"As I said, no one can evade me. No one is as loyal to their king."

"Yet you don't turn me over to him. You are in _league_ with pirates. For Christ's sake, _vos meilleurs amis sont des pirates!_ "

"But I have been loyal to my king all the same. Gilbert and Antonio have never attacked France. They give me information that I need to help my King. I have been loyal to him all the same over these years... Until now."

"Pourquoi?"

"I don't know. It's so complex." Francis emptied his glass of wine in a few swift gulps and poured himself a new one. "I just feel different."

"You don't even know me."

"But I feel like I do. I feel like I have known you for a thousand years." Francis drew closer to the blonde. He was sitting on the edge of the bed beside him. "I want to you know for a thousand more."

Francis sighed and closed his eyes.

"If you are loyal to your King, then you'd have to bring me to him," Matthew said.

"No, he'd kill you! I care for you too much to allow it."

"If you care, then you would have to let me go. Every moment that I'm here, you risk my life. You don't want that do you?"

"No, but it's not that simple."

"Yes, it is."

"I can't..." Francis trailed off.

"You can't what?"

"I can't help falling in love with you..."

Matthew's glass slipped from his now limp hand, falling to the ground and shattering into a thousand pieces. He stared at Francis with shocked violet eyes. Those were words that he seemed not to expect, Francis realized. The blue-eyed male shook his head. He knew Matthew would reject him. He knew he'd get turned away.

Francis turned away from Matthew, taking the wine bottle with him. He left the room and walked down the stairs to the main floor of the in to drink away his pain. His heart was breaking just as that glass had.

When he returned later that night, Matthew was gone.

Francis climbed onto the mattress and pulled the blankets over himself. The bed was cold and devoid of any comfort. Francis stretched his long fingers to find the space beside him empty. Matthew was gone... The keys to the cuffs that had bound him lay on what had once been his pillow. Francis closed his blue eyes and sighed. He had been so naïve to think Matthew could ever love him.

 _Matthew_

Matthew sat in the alley just beside the inn where they had been staying, a cigarette between his fingers. He was uttered confused. The flamboyant idiot had said he was falling for him, but that was something that Matthew could never believe. No one loved him. Alfred didn't even love him although they were brothers. He had never allowed someone to love him. His world had allowed no one but himself inside. The man upstairs, however, seemed to change everything. He seemed to care about Matthew, unlike so many other. He looked longingly back at the door to the inn and sighed. He had to go back.

 _Francis_

 _Matthew was in his arms. Their bodies were naked, touching so close at the hips, joined even by their sexes. Their breaths were ragged and torn. Everything was perfect. Every gasp, every lustful moan, every breath that was taken. Francis relished in it all. He allowed his hands to glide over Matthew's slender yet muscular frame. He was all he had ever wanted, all he had ever needed._

Francis woke suddenly from his dream when a breeze blew open the curtains in his room. The morning sun crept in and forced him awake. He squeezed his eyes shut and shifted his body to face the emptiness beside him. He didn't want to open his eyes. He didn't want to get up. He knew Antonio would leave him stranded just to teach him a lesson, but he _couldn't_ move. He had no will. The Frenchman opened his blue eyes and came face to face with Matthew. He closed his eyes again. His dreams were plaguing him with images. They were too real. Even when he was awake, he could swear that Matthew was there...

He heard a soft groan and warm fingers reached out to him. Francis' eyes shot open. The man beside him was not a figment of his imagination and his dreams.

"You came back..." Francis, staring at Matthew.

Matthew opened his violet eyes and gave a small smile. "Because I believe you can teach me to love and to love you."

"What... I thought..."

"You said you were the only brilliant Captain who could have managed to capture me. How can someone such as yourself not expect the unexpected in instances such as capturing my heart?"

Francis smiled and pulled Matthew close to him. He had never been happier.

 **A/N/: Welp. I know there is little SpaMano in this chapter, but I wanted to get my ships out there. There will be SpaMano in the next chapter, though. It's this chapter part two.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N/: As I promised, here is the continuation of the last chapter. There are still going to be individual love stories, though. SpaMano is going to be the very last and longest one. Because I'm an asshat. Bella's story might also be long because I have given her literally no backstory. And she's currently got little personality. 3 Order: Arthur. Gilbert. Bella. Antonio. Four stories. Yep. Love right there. Okay. Enjoy.**

 _Arthur_

 ** _The Tale of Alfred in the Lion's Dead_**

A million and one things were racing through Arthur's mind. He had a million and one questions. First off. How had that _stupid_ Spaniard sunk the _Lady Beth_? How did _he_ manage to sink the pride of the British Royal Navy? How had he even caught up to that damned ship? How did he manage to take the captain alive? The captain of the _Lady Beth_ was known for his pride in his ship. How had he not gone down with her and her crew?

That _stupid_ Spaniard must have had some _stupidly_ dumb luck.

He had been trying to sink that God-forsaken ship for years, and he was bloody pissed that Antonio had been the one to capture Alfred _Fucking_ Jones. How had he beaten him to the punch? He was so close. He had been tracking Jones' movements outside of Port for weeks. He had gotten his route down to the T. And then, all of a sudden, he had disappeared. _Lady Beth_ just stopped appearing on her normal routes. It must have been the fault of that _stupid_ Spaniard.

Arthur wanted to slaughter the whole lot of them, the Bad Touch Trio, especially his former lover. The cheese eating surrender monkey had actually moved on. How was one supposed to move on after someone like Arthur? He was bloody fabulous. How could anyone live up to the legacy he had left? Francis had allowed his taste to go to the damned dogs.

The Brit trudged through Tortuga, his hand wrapped around the forearm of the Captain he had been seeking for years. It had been years since he'd last seen Alfred. He could remember the day clearly that they'd last spoke. Many harsh words were spoken. Many regrettable, harsh words.

 _He stood in the downpour, in the middle of nowhere, but it was their spot. It was where they had always gone together. Now Arthur stood alone, waiting, shivering in the icy rain. He did not hear his footsteps approach. He did not hear him coming up behind. He did not know he was even there until his hand landed on his shoulder._

 _"Is it true?" was all he asked._

 _Arthur nodded briefly, refusing to look in his direction._

 _"Look at me..." Alfred said. The pain in his voice was evident._

 _Reluctantly, Arthur turned._

 _"Look at this, Artie. What the hell is this? How do you explain it?" the bespectacled blond said, presenting Arthur with a piece of parchment._

 _Arthur could easily tell it was a wanted poster. "What are you showing me? You_ know _I can't read, Alfred," the Brit drawled, staring at the poor drawing of his own face. He lied so easily. He had learned to read years ago, but he never told Alfred that. He had always loved to hear his crisp voice pronounce the words of authors that he loved so dearly. Still, he had to keep up the charade. Alfred was naïve enough to believe him, anyways. "So why are you presenting it to me as if I can understand."_

 _"A pirate, Arthur? How could you?"_

 _The bushy-browed Brit narrowed his emerald gaze at the blue-eyed blond behind him. "How could I? How could_ I? _How could you?" he demanded. He was suddenly full of fury. "What happened to us against the world?_ Us _against_ him? _He's a bloody ligger, Alfred! He steals from his people through his taxes, and you can all of a sudden support him?"_

 _"We were_ kids _, Arthur. Kids with stupid dreams. It's about damned time that we grow up and move on with our lives," Alfred said, his eyes directed towards the ground. He sounded so defeated, so lost._

 _This was not the Alfred he knew and loved._

 _"Instead you went off to become a pirate," Alfred said. The words felt like a slap in the face. "You do understand that I can arrest you, here and now for treason and piracy, Arthur. I could arrest you, and they would hang you."_

 _"You wouldn't do that."_

 _"I could," Alfred said, his voice full of despair and defeat. "They're coming, you know. Right now. They may not know where you're anchored, but they know you're here, in this field. They know about our relationship-"_

 _"You_ told _them?" Arthur asked, his voice mimicking the betrayal he felt._

 _"They followed me, Artie. They followed us-"_

 _"Don't call me that," Arthur spat. "And there is no us. There may have been at one point, but I was foolish enough to trust you. You_ told _them I was here."_

 _"I threw them off of your trail as best as I could, but it won't be long until they figure it out, Arthur. You have to go before they catch you."_

 _Arthur's features wrinkled. He couldn't believe he cared for this man. He couldn't believe he had actually come to love him. "Alfred Jones, you are the only person I've ever loved, and you have betrayed me. For this, I will never stop hunting you, not until the day that I capture you," Arthur said, watching the pain flash across Alfred's face. He didn't care. He felt satisfaction from it. He needed that satisfaction. "And by the way, I can read."_

 _With that, Arthur turned and walked away. He didn't run. He saw no need to. He was not going to look scared in front of the man that had betrayed his trust. He was not going to run. With each step he took, he felt Alfred's blue eyes burning at his back._

"So you can read, huh?" Alfred asked, a cocky grin spreading onto his features.

Arthur had no missed that grin one bit. "Piss off, Alfred."

He heard the man chuckle. God, he wanted to smack him. It had easily been seven years. He had been so young then, twenty-two years of age. Alfred had been what? Eighteen? How had he fallen for that idiot? He was hardly an adult. How had he even gotten to be part of the Royal Navy? How had he managed to make the title of captain in only six months?

"Where are we going, Art?" Alfred asked.

"Piss _the fuck_ off, Alfred," Arthur muttered, his hold on the man's arm tightening as he led him along. How did he ever believe that the man could hold his tongue?

They were heading to the pride and joy of his life, the _Emerald Lion_. He could already see her green flag flying from the main mast. He was proud to watch her bobbing gently in the calm waters of the bay. He walked briskly through the docks until he reached the gangplank that led up to his beautiful ship. A whistle escaped Alfred's lips, but Arthur ignored it. He had to. It was one of those things he used to do all of those years ago. That hadn't changed about it. His arrogance, however, certainly had.

"She's a beautiful ship, Artie, but _Lady Beth_ has leagues on her."

"She _had_ ," Arthur said, a smirk forming on his lips.

"S'cuse me?"

"She _had_ leagues on the _Emerald Lion_ , if at all. She's at the bottom of the ocean," Arthur said bluntly. Alfred immediately shut up. Arthur had certainly hit a raw nerve.

They walked up the gangplank up onto the deck and stopped. The crew milled around lazily. He snorted. How had he hired such lazy shitheads? They worked when they sailed, but anytime they were docked, they sat around gambling. Lazy sods...

"Listen up, you bloody knob heads!" Arthur called walking towards the stairs with Alfred in tow. He sauntered up to the top step and stared down at his crew whose gazes were directed at him. "I've recently acquired a new toy. Say hello to Alfred F. Jones, captain of the _Lady Beth_ of the Royal Navy. Mark this day as a victory for those against the bloody crown."

A cheer rang out through his crew, and Arthur smirked. This was a good enough reaction.

His expression then hardened. "Now he and I have some old business to attend to. If you bother me, I'll cut your bloody dicks off, understand?"

He heard a few nervous chuckles as he dragged Alfred towards his cabin. He entered and slammed the doors, locking them behind him.

"What the _bloody_ fuck, Alfred?" Arthur asked, spinning to face the bespectacled blond.

Alfred's brows furrowed. "What do ya mean? What did I do? I thought I was just on the shit end of a deal."

"How did you let that _stupid_ fucking Spaniard capture you?" Arthur snapped. "I swore to you that I'd capture you, yet you let some bloody fucking prat of a Spaniard steal you from me! You were mine! You always have been mine, yet you just toss that aside? How _could_ you?"

"I'd rather it be him than you," Alfred said without skipping a beat.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'd rather him catch me instead of you. I can't let myself believe that you'd stopped loving me, Arthur."

The bloody prat. He was so cocksure of himself. "I would have sunk you eventually."

"No, you wouldn't have."

"I _beg_ your _pardon_?" Arthur asked.

"You nearly had me time after time, Arthur, but you always stopped before you could sink the _Lady Beth_. Why?"

Why had he stopped? Alfred was right. He had had countless opportunities to sink the ship that had haunted him for years, but each time he was about to start the cannon fire, he receded. He stopped. He let the _Lady Beth_ sail away, far far away. Each time he had said that he wanted to keep them running in fear. He said he wanted to know that they had only survived because Arthur had allowed it. He wanted the captain and crew to feel that Arthur held their lives in his hands.

In reality, he had only stopped because he was too weak. He felt too much pain each time the cannons were prepared. He couldn't bring himself to harm the blue eyed blond. He just couldn't do it.

And in a matter of seconds, year's worth of emotions came flooding out. Arthur pulling Alfred into a world-shattering kiss. Lips locked, teeth clashed, and arms wove around bodies to create a bone-crushing hug. It was a kiss that the Brit realized that had been waiting years for.

When they pulled apart, Arthur looked at Alfred with brilliant green eyes. "I never stopped loving you. Not a day went by that I didn't miss your laugh, your voice, your smile..." Arthur whispered.

"I never stopped, either, Artie."

Arthur snorted and shook his head. "I'm sorry for what I said to you..."

Alfred offered bushy-browed a smile. "It's okay. I forgave you a long time ago."

They stood there for a long while, simply staring at one another. It had been so many years since they had done just that. In that field where they used to lay, they spent hours memorizing the details of the other's face. Arthur soaked up each subtle detail of Alfred's face once again. He was thinner than he had last seen him. His hair was matted with grease. A light smattering of freckles had grown on his nose from the years of sunburn from life at sea. His blue eyes still held that bright blue color that they had had when they were younger. The curiosity never escaped his gaze.

Not even now. Not even when he made the most absurd suggestions.

"Arthur, I'm not sure what you're into, but with as much time as I've spent with those Germans, I learned that cuffs make things a hell of a lot kinkier," Alfred said, wiggling his eyebrows and jangling the shackles on his wrists.

Arthur promptly whacked Alfred over the head. "The the _fuck_ _up_ , Alfred."

 _Gilbert_

 _The Tale of the Teutonic Knight and His Princess_

Gilbert sat at the bar of the same inn his friends were at. They thought they'd been sly and found somewhere he wouldn't go, but he knew they were scattered about, somewhere in this little inn. Where else would they go if not the little place in a far corner of Tortuga? He didn't want to find them, though. Not right now. His mind was elsewhere. His friends didn't concern him at this time.

Gilbert gestured to the bartender with the light ginger hair and got another drink. They didn't have as strong of beer in the south, but it'd have to do. He needed some sort of alcohol running through him. These days, it was all that seemed to blur the line between rational and irrational thoughts. One irrational thought kept penetrating his sober mind, and for the time being, he wanted it gone. He didn't want to think of the Austrian musician that was locked in a room on the second floor, but even the alcohol he had drunk hadn't cleared his mind. Half of a glass of shitty beer wasn't enough. He stared into his cup and sighed. Here he was, yet again, attempting to drink away his problem. He had been doing the same thing Antonio was as his life on the seas became more and more dangerous, more and more stressful. But now the Austrian Princess was stuck on his mind, and no amount of alcohol would rid himself of the hazardous thoughts. The Austrian Princess was so frustrating with his pompous attitude. He acted as though he was better than everyone, when in fact, he was just a prisoner. And Gilbert knew he was scared. He could see it in those violet eyes of his. Behind that façade, behind that attitude that reeked of privilege, the Austrian was scared. He had probably never left the comfort of his home or of his lovely little ship where Antonio had plucked him from. In the few times that Gilbert had come to visit him in his cell over the last couple of weeks, he had seen how the musician had shrunk into the corner. He was afraid of his surrounding. He was afraid of everything. Gilbert was only visiting him and giving him thought because he pitied him. Yes. That was it. He pitied the poor fool because he was locked in the clutches of supposedly the most fearsome pirate to sail the seven seas. The cocky shithead, Antonio. Still, Gilbert could not shake the feeling he had gotten from the look the Austrian had given him upon the first meeting. It was a mix of anger and desperation. Those violet eyes... They were actually quite beautiful. As a whole, the Austrian was quite handsome. Whatever wife he had back home was lucky to have him.

Gilbert paused.

When had the Austrian gone from frustrating and pompous to beautiful and handsome? This alcohol, no matter how much he'd actually drank, must have been getting to his head. He could have sworn this was only his first glass, but he did have the tendency to lose count sometimes. The lines between rational and irrational were certainly blurry at this point.

Gilbert stood from his seat at the bar after swallowing the last bit of his glass of crappy beer. He left the glass there along with a few coins as payment. He walked towards the stairs and made his way up. He wasn't too wobbly. He had been worse before. He remembered it. Well, no, he didn't. Those nights were all a hazy mess, but he felt that this one wouldn't be so bad. He walked down the hall, his hand trailing along the wall to keep him steady. It was probably that his legs were asleep or some shit. He felt fine. He found the door where he had left the Austrian Princess earlier that evening and unlocked it. He looked around for a moment. The Austrian was not there. At least not where he had left him. He could have sworn he was on the bed the last time he had checked. Gilbert scanned the room again and saw the Austrian near the window. Actually, no, near the window was an understatement. It was more like _in the window_. The Austrian Princess was hanging halfway out of the window to be precise. He had tied his coat as well as a few blankets and sheets together and was climbing out of the window. From the look on his face, he was terrified. Gilbert chuckled softly and stalked over to the window. He grabbed the musician by the collar of his shirt and hauled him back inside.

"What the hell do you think you're doing Princess? Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Gilbert asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"No. I was _trying_ to leave this horrid place!" The Austrian spat.

"Well, with the little skill that you actually possess," Gilbert stated lazily, "the second story drop would have killed you."

"It would not."

" _Sure_ it wouldn't."

"You and your insane friends have kept me hostage for weeks. And for what?"

"No idea," Gilbert said with a shrug. "Not my problem. You're Toni's Austrian Princess to deal with. I, the awesome me, am just a temporary sitter."

"I have a name."

"Excuse me?"

"I have a name. It's Roderich."

Gilbert paused. He hadn't ever thought to ask the Austrian his name. Roderich. The Prussian smiled a cheshire-like grin.

"Well, Princess Roderich, you're not going anywhere."

"Why? What is your need with me? And take a few steps back, you barbarian. I can _smell_ the alcohol on your breath, you drunken fool."

Gilbert's grin widened. He hadn't realized how close in proximity they were. He had hauled the man back in, but the distance between them had not lessened. The best part. The Princess named Roderich thought he was drunk. Well, he could easily live up to those expectations. He stepped closer to Roderich, his face even closer.

"I don't think I will, Little Princess," he said softly.

The Austrian stepped back, and Gilbert stepped closer. He kept coming closer until Roderich was falling back onto the rickety bed. He didn't know what he was doing, why he was suddenly like this, but it was thrilling.

"What are you doing?" Roderich asked, falling back onto the mattress. "Stop it. You're insane. Stop. Get away from me."

Gilbert gave a toothy grin as the Austrian pushed at him. He merely took hold of his wrists and pinned them above his head. He sat on his waist and straddled him, his face inching closer and closer. His lips could have easily brushed the younger man's, but Gilbert paused when he heard Roderich whimper. Gilbert's grip tightened slightly before it went entirely slack. He leaned back, looking at the Austrian's violet eyes.

"What are you doing?" Roderich asked.

"Stopping, like you wanted," Gilbert replied, a confused expression reading on his features. "I may have the scent of alcohol on my breath, Princess, but I am by no means drunk I have control over myself. I wouldn't do anything to you that I didn't want to do, and I don't want to violate you. I'd rather have your consent."

Roderich looked stunned. Gilbert _felt_ stunned. The words had slipped from his pale lips before he could catch them. He had just _admitted_ to wanted the Austrian. He had control of his actions. He was not drunk. He _wanted_ the Austrian Princess in front of him. He wanted Roderich. He had tried for so long to convince himself that he was not queer like his best friend. And for some reason, he felt himself caring about the emotions of the frightened man who had gotten caught at sea. He wanted to _protect_ him for some reason. Teasing him was fun, yes, but he didn't want to see the fear in his beautiful violet eyes.

There he went again, calling the man beautiful. His attraction was growing...

"Believe me... I don't think I want to stop," he said softly. "I don't want to stop, but I don't want you to be afraid of me either... I can't stand that look in your eyes."

"Then don't," Roderich said.

"Excuse me?"

"Then _don't_ stop."

Gilbert paused. Did the Austrian want him? Did he mistake the look of lust in his violet eyes for fear? He had to assume yes, especially from the bulge in the Austrian's pants.

"Well... Shit..." Gilbert muttered. "Fuck restraint."

The Prussian pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the side. He regretted it almost immediately. He heard a gasp escape the Austrian Prince's lips. Gilbert closed his crimson eyes and hung his pale head. Soft fingers touched his chest, traced over the scars that littered it.

"What happened?" Roderich asked softly.

Gilbert pressed his lips together to form a narrow line as he opened his eyes. Roderich's violet ones met his. He offered the Austrian a soft smile, the softest he had given the entire night. "A few botched robberies led to a bit of time in prison. And German prisons aren't that kind to a man. They leave scars," Gilbert said ruefully.

"I'm sorry..." the Austrian said.

Gilbert shook his head. This man had nothing to be sorry for. It had happened so many years ago. He was naïve enough to allow himself to fall into the wrong crowd. "Don't apologize for my stupidity. The scars show off my ugly personality and my ugly past."

"They may leave scars, but they will heal nonetheless..." Roderich said, his brows furrowed. "I don't think any less of you because of them. I suppose they are a part of you and your past. They don't define you."

Gilbert offered a cocky grin. "You know just what to say with those pretty words, don't ya, Roddy?" He was really starting to like this Prince right in front of him. Gilbert leaned in and pinned Roderich's hands above his head once more. He pinned him down and kissed the younger male. It was bliss, better than any woman he had ever been with, and it was all just a kiss, a kiss that changed Gilbert's look on life forever.

 _Bella_

 _The Tale of Beauty and Her Beast_

The woman looked at the young Italian before her, confusion spreading onto her features. He didn't understand what was wrong. He was acting strange, and she had no idea why. She couldn't be sure if it was her fault. The scowl that usually registered on his features was nonexistent. It was as if it had completely vanished from his being altogether. It was as if it was never there. She was unused to the pleasant expression he had donned. He didn't face her. His eyes were directed out of the window. He was thoroughly distracted, thoroughly pleased. If he could, Bella was sure he would have sat on the ledge of that window, watching the goings on, but he could not. She left him on the lone bed in the room, cuffed by one of his wrists.

"It's beautiful, you know," Lovino said, his eyes still directed out of the window. A small ghost of a smile graced his lips. Bella didn't understand what he was talking about, but without shifting his gaze to look at her, he seemed to understand that. "The sea, I mean."

Bella returned his smile even though the boy could not see it.

"It was something I found I missed after moving away to live with my grandfather. I missed watching the sunrise of the Mediterranean. I missed its smell. I missed its beauty. That's probably the best thing about this journey so far," he said, that smile broadening. "I can watch the sea."

The woman sighed. She could see herself in the boy. She had that same feeling all those years ago. The sea called to her. It drew her nearer as the sun rose on those calm French mornings. She had always sat at her window, blond bangs falling in front of her avid green eyes. She was so full of hope and youth... She could also see a younger version of a certain Spanish Captain in the boy. He had that same proficiency on a ship, that same sturdiness on a rocking boat. He had the same sea legs that Antonio had. These realizations sent waves of nostalgia coursing through her. She wished she and Toni were still like that. She wished that they still had that blissful ignorance about them, that naïvety.

"It really is," Bella said, pushing herself off of the wall. She walked towards the window and looked out. There the view was absolutely stunning. It had a view of the main harbor of Tortuga. The ships of many pirate captains were anchored there. From where she stood, she could even see the beautiful _Wandering Anna Maria_.

These men had so much freedom on the seas. _She_ had that freedom. She could roam the seven seas for as long as she wanted. She had no ties to any place. France had long since been forgotten. She no longer defined herself as one of its people. She was free from the bindings and legalities it imposed. She was _free_. But there was another in this room that was not. Lovino had been robbed of that freedom when he stepped onto Antonio's ship, and it was something she truly was dismayed by. She could tell he was a free spirit. He didn't belong in a cell.

"I'm sorry, by the way."

Lovino turned away from the window for the first time since he gazed in that direction and looked at Bella, amber eyes connecting to light green. "What for?"

"All that's happened so far..." she said with a shrug. "You don't deserve to be in this sort of situation. And what surprises me most is the fact that you don't seem to be angry with me."

"It's not your fault. You were just following orders. Besides, you helped me when no one else would. You had no reason to wipe the blood from my back. You didn't have to even look in my direction, but you did."

Bella furrowed her brow. Of course, she would help him. Only complete assholes would have left him in that state. She said lamely, "I didn't want you to die. You're too young."

"Thank you."

Bella looked at the boy with a perplexed expression. She could see why he irritated Antonio so severely. He was a complex person. He surprised her with a simple apology. He wasn't nearly as tough and hard headed as he let on. She could see that he had a sweet, understanding side. He just didn't show that side of him around Antonio. She could understand why, though. That man could really be a bastard sometimes.

The woman smiled wistfully and looked outside of the window once again. The sea was calling to her, just as it always had. She wanted to sit on the docks as darkness fell to watch the lights on all of these ships dazzle and illuminate the harbor.

"As the first vacation I've had in a long time, I didn't expect it to go like this. It's not that I mind so much that I'm in your company... It the fact that my brother always has to dump his responsibilities on me."

"Then go out and enjoy your night. I'll be fine here."

Bella looked back to the boy, her brow furrowed. Again, he had surprised her. "Are you sure you will be okay on your own? I can't remove those cuffs. As much as I want to trust you, I can't risk losing you to the chaos that is Tortuga."

Lovino nodded. "Leave the wine close," he said, looking to the crate not too far from him. "It'll give me something to do until morning. I won't go anywhere. I've no idea where Feliciano and that Potato Bastard are, and I'm not leaving without him."

"I'm sure no one will bother you, but if anyone asks," Bella said, shoving the crate towards Lovino with her foot. She then took the keys to his cuffs and hung them on the hook by the door. The bed he sat on was too heavy to try and move. He could never reach them, but she needed to leave them there for later. "Blame everything on Francis. He left you here with all of this alcohol as a bribery to keep you here. If that doesn't work, make up something else. Tell a lie. I don't care. Just blame Francis."

Lovino smiled a mischievous smile and winked. "Easy enough."

"Don't do anything stupid, Lovino."

Bella shuddered as she opened the door and left. The Bad Touch Trio was certainly rubbing off on that boy, and she wasn't sure how to feel. They always managed to corrupt the sweetest of people. Sure, she was glad that the kid was lightening up, but it shouldn't be at the fault of that obnoxious group of men.

She shook her head as she walked down the stairs and approached the counter. She did not order herself a drink. Francis was right. She never much cared for alcohol. Instead, she allowed her mind to wander. It had been a long few weeks at sea, and after only the first three, she had noticed a change in Antonio. His attitude had changed, and for a night, he had even let out some of his emotions. He was such a guarded person, but one Italian had changed him. Lovino had broken through a wall he probably didn't realize he was breaking. In some way, she figured the pair of them needed one another. Antonio needed Lovino to put a stop to his anger. Lovino needed Antonio to gain his freedom. They needed each other, and that is why Bella had every reason to advocate for them.

The woman looked to the bartender and smiled a dazzling smile that she figured no man could deny. "If a Spanish man in a red coat comes in here, tell him a blond man named Francis paid for his room," she said. There was no way she was going to allow Antonio know that this was her doing. She held out her key to the light-haired ginger man. "Give him and only him that room. If he doesn't come, I'll be back in the morning to retrieve the man that is up there."

"I can do that for ya', ma'am," he said with a smile. He took the key and pocketed it.

"Thank you," she said.

Yes. Antonio needed this. He had lived through so much despair. He needed happiness.

And then she left the inn, passing the Spaniard on her way out. She couldn't stand to be locked within its confines any longer, especially if he was going to be there. She wanted to be far away from the dingy little place. She needed to be far away from Francis and Gilbert and Antonio. They'd all end up there sooner or later. Her brother was already upstairs, harassing the little blond he had picked up. Antonio was on his way in. Gilbert would follow them sooner or later. They all thought alike, and they all thought that they could avoid the other by going there. They were wrong. She had to get out before Antonio kept her there. She couldn't face another night with him. Yes, she cared for him, but the way she cared had long since changed.

She walked down the roads, simply wandering, lost in her thoughts. Francis had struck a raw nerve with her. He had reminded her of something she would have loved to forget. He spoke of the life she had left behind for her one at sea. He spoke of the man she had carelessly abandoned...

 _Her name was Belladonna. It was given to her by her mother, a woman born and raised in Italy. It meant 'beautiful lady'. The name was longer and elegant. It wasn't cut short like the name she referred to herself by in the present._ Belladonna. _She radiated such beauty and grace, but she had always been a free spirit that could be tamed by the corsets of society. She was never one to enjoy getting told what to do. She was never one to get pinned down by those around her because of her gender, so when her father introduced her to that handsome man at the age of nineteen, she was anything but delighted. She had no intentions of getting pinned down as a housewife for the rest of her life. This man was wealthy and would provide a good reputation for her family, but she did not love him. She could not love him, but she had grown up knowing that her father had her best interest in mind. If he felt that this man could protect her and provide for her and her future family, then who was she to doubt him?_

 _She should have._

 _Their engagement was just the beginning of a never ending waking nightmare._

 _They began after they had gone for dinner in Paris. They were in their carriage on their way home when he had come onto her. She was not strong enough to hold him back. He was drunk, and she was too tipsy to stop him. He raped her for the first time that night._

 _She wanted to plead with her father to call off the engagement, but she was far too ashamed to admit that she had had sex out of wedlock._

 _Over the course of the next few months, it became routine, his act of assaulting her. She stopped fighting it. She didn't want any more pain from the bruises after he hit her. She didn't want to attempt to hide them under her sleeves and her gowns. She didn't want to hide each wince as she sat down to dinner with her father, mother, and brother. She stopped fighting him, and in turn, the bruises gradually began to disappear._

 _In public, they were thought to be the best couple. Those people did not see behind the velvet curtains and smiles that she had presented._

 _Their wedding came sooner than she expected. It was the eve of the wedding, and they sat together at the dinner table. Her family was not present. They were allowing them some privacy before they were wed. She had prepared dinner for the both of them. A simple meal of chicken and potatoes. She had never been the best cook, so that was not her focus. Her skills with baking were far greater. She prepared a cobbler for him and placed it in front of it that night. She did not have a piece. She was far too full._

 _At the end of the night, her father came and retrieved her. She went home, and the next morning, she prepared for the wedding. She dressed in her beautiful gown. Her long blonde locks were styled elegantly atop of her head._

 _Then news arrived the next morning of her fiancé's death. She claimed she was heartbroken to all of her family members, but in reality, she was relieved._

 _She fled her home. She fled to the ship of her dear friend that sat on the coast. She boarded Antonio's ship, still in her gown from that morning. He welcomed her with open arms. He never asked why she was there. She never told him. This was her beast to bear._

 _That night, as they left the coast of France aboard the newly constructed_ Wandering Anna Maria _, she sat at the helm with a knife in her hand. She pulled down her long blonde locks and cut them to a shoulder length. With a feeling of resignation, she those blonde strands fall into the ocean. She needed the change. By becoming a pirate under the command of Antonio Fernandez, she was building herself a new identity. She was ridding herself of all of the things that defined her past. That included the white beaded bag she was supposed to bring to her wedding. She opened its clasp and spilled its contents into the sea. Little dark berries plopped down into the equally dark water._

 _Deadly nightshade._

 _She was not ashamed to admit that she had poisoned her fiancé. She had poisoned him with the plant in which she shared a common name._

Belladonna _._

 _But along with her new life on the sea, she chose herself a new title. She simply shortened her hair and shortened her name._

 _She became Bella. Simple, short, sweet, and straight to the point.}_

The woman's memories were cut short by a sleazy, drawling voice.

"'Ello, pretty lady," he said.

Bella turned to find the voice. It was a man. _A pirate_. He was clearly drunk. She could tell by the way he staggered down the alleyway. _The alleyway_. When had she turned down an alley? She was usually a lot less careless during her wandering, especially as the sun began to set. She furrowed her brows and stared at the man.

"How much?" he asked.

"For what?" she asked, but she knew what he meant.

"Tuh sleep wit' ya."

"I'm not a prostitute," she said cooly. Bella turned away from him and continued down the alley. She wasn't frightened. She just wanted to get away from the creep. She needed to get to the main road. Where it was, she wasn't exactly sure.

The man grabbed her arm with a strong grip. Bella stilled and looked back at him.

"Let go of me," she said coldly.

"C'mon, pretty lady, I'll pay ya nice," he cooed. He stepped towards her. She took a step back. Much to her chagrin, she found herself backing into the wall. "C'mon, lady."

"Stop," Bella growled.

The man stepped closer. She could smell the alcohol on his breath. Fucking pig. He placed a hand on her waist, too close to her rear.

Another voice suddenly rang down the alleyway. "I think she told you to stop."

Bella's light green gaze flicked towards the end of the alley. She saw a man with a sword. The pirate in front of her caught that same glimpse. He was distracted. This was where Bella made her move. She took hold of the man's nether's in a harsh grip. The pirate looked at her with wide, pained eyes.

"Touch me again, and I will crush your fragile little balls, do you under me?" she asked in a deadly sweet tone. The man nodded. "Now apologize."

"I'm sorry," he gasped.

"Tell anyone that if they decide to fuck with me, they will suffer the wrath of Nightshade." Bella then released the piece of shit, and he went running. She looked to the man with the sword. He was tall and blond. His eyes were green, a very similar color to her own.

"That was badass," he said, nodding to her with approval.

Bella shrugged.

"I'm Willem," he said. "I've never seen a woman handle herself quite like you do. Would you give me the honor of sharing a drink with you?"

She shrugged again. "I don't drink much, but you're welcome to sit with me on the docks. You know what will happen if you make a move on me." What was she doing? She hadn't let anyone in in so long. She hadn't made friends in such a long time. She had no reason to trust anyone, but there seemed to be something kind in Willem's eyes.

"I do," Willem replied. "What is your name?"

"Bella. At least that's what my friends call me, but to you," she said. "I'm Belladonna."

 _Antonio_

 ** _The Tale of the Spanish Captain and His Woe_**

He was alone. He was so used to being alone. He had grown accustomed to it over the last six years. Yes, he had Bella to keep him company. Yes, he had his entire crew to order around. He had the occasional appearance of Francis and Gilbert, but that was only occasional. He lacked real companionship. His life didn't feel worth living. He simply fought every monarchy that he could. And then... He had turned to alcohol.

If his life were on the back of a book, that would be the synopsis. It was a sad realization that he had had. He was a drunk pirate. He was no better than the rest that wandered the streets of Tortuga with him.

He was bored out of his mind. He had no clue what he was supposed to be doing on this island. He didn't want to shop. There wasn't anything that intrigued him much. He didn't want to order repairs on _Anna Maria_. He wanted to wait until morning for that. Antonio had been wandering around Tortuga for hours. That was his sad existence. He had reduced himself to wandering like his poor ship. He had no destination in mind, and a good amount of the time, neither did she. It was a long while until morning, and in that time, he'd just have to wait.

Antonio had ordered everyone back to the _Wandering Anna Maria_ by daybreak or they'd be left behind. He had every intention of enforcing that rule, too, especially with Francis and Gilbert. They had left their ships anchored further out into the harbor and sailed in with him. If their asses were on board in time, he was going to make them find their own way back.

In the meantime, he was going to sit in a bar that he had found so many years ago. He was sure Gilbert and Francis would appear there later, but it'd be fine. He'd enjoy having his friends around for at least a little while.

He passed Bella on his way in. She didn't even bother to stop and say hello. She simply brushed past him and went on her way. It was strange. Usually, she'd at least give him some sort of acknowledgment. He had to wonder what was on her mind.

He found Francis as the man was heading down the stairs. He offered a half-assed smile to his friend which fell as soon as he saw the blond's expression. He was not his usual happy self. He had a darker look in his eye, on that he had not seen for some time. It was that look he carried for weeks after Arthur betrayed him by sleeping with another man. He suspected this was a similar case.

"Francis, what's wrong, my friend?" Antonio asked.

The man shrugged, a weak smile forcing its way onto his lips. "Nothing, mon amis. Nothing is wrong."

Antonio regarded his friend skeptically. "I'm sure that's not that case, Francis. I haven't seen that look on your since London three years ago."

Francis shrugged, heading for an empty table in the corner of the room. He sat down, and Antonio took the chair directly across from him. He watched his blond friend curiously. His gaze was distracted. He looked as if he had a lot on his mind.

"Francis? What's wrong?" Antonio asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Love is painful, is it not?" he asked.

Antonio looked at Francis, his brow wrinkling. What relevance had love in this situation? Was that what had caused his pain? Was it the informant? What was his name? Matthew?

"I wouldn't know," Antonio said plainly. "I've not loved in a long while."

"You're wrong," Francis said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You may not realize it yet, but you're falling in love, my friend. I can see it in those green eyes of yours," Francis said.

"I'm not in love, Francis. There's no way in hell," Antonio stated.

The Frenchman shrugged. "Believe as you wish, 'Tonio, but trust me, I know. I always do. When have I ever been wrong?"

The Spaniard could state quite a few times when his friend had been wrong, but he wasn't going to point them out. He didn't want to hear the lecture on how he was simply an ass to every person he'd ever met. But was Francis wrong this time?

"Where is the boy, by the way? I thought you had him."

A worried look briefly flitted its way onto Francis' features, but as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished. "I left him with Gilbert. Where they are, I don't exactly have a clue. Gilbert should show up sooner or later if they're not upstairs already."

Antonio nodded. "Of course."

"Why do you ask?"

Because he wanted to make sure he was okay. He didn't want him disappearing yet. No, he couldn't go anywhere, not before he had the chance to discover the beautiful workings of the man's mind. He needed to figure out the emotion behind his amber eyes. "It's my job. He's a payment that I can't afford to lose."

" _Naturally_ , my friend," Francis said. The Spaniard could feel the sarcasm rolling off of Francis' words, but he chose to ignore it. "You already know my opinion on the matter."

Antonio furrowed his brow. He was sure he wasn't in love. Sure, his ideals were being morphed as of late, but that wasn't love's doing. That was that dumb kid. That kid and his sudden lack of alcohol. He groaned loudly and laid his head on the table. The afternoon ahead of him was going to be a long one.

Francis left a few hours later, that somber look returning to his eyes after a long while of drinking. Antonio knew the Frenchman to be sentimental when he had too much wine. Tonight was one of those nights. Antonio, on the other hand, had not a drop to drink.

After Francis' departure, he sat at the bar and spoke to the ginger man that stood there, pouring rum and whiskey and polishing glasses.

"So beautiful," Antonio muttered, his green eyes focusing on the bartender. "So beautiful, yet so inexplicably unavailable. My friends, they don't understand how I feel. Hell, _I_ don't understand how I feel. They are convinced that I am in love, but I'm sure I am not. I can't be in love. I'm fearsome. I am a pirate. I don't love..."

"Did ya' think of maybe distancing ya'self from this person?" the bartender asked. He was a tall man, pale with ginger hair. His accent was thick and Irish. He was probably from some country in the North. He didn't really care.

"I tried that, believe me. And that's what got me here. My friends are convinced that in order to get over this solitude that I've confined myself to, I need to go and sleep with a total stranger. But I don't want to! I don't want some random girl off of the streets. I want meaning... Not casual sex. That's all I've ever had. But I don't even understand my own feelings for this Italian that's found its way into my life. Like... I don't know. I feel so different around this Italian. And it can't be love. Like I said, I don't love. But the Italian makes me different. The Italian makes my mind spin with confusion."

"Is different okay?" the man asked.

"I don't know. I feel like it makes me weaker, and I don't want that. How will I survive if I appear weak?" Antonio glanced at the bottle the bartender had left for him on the counter and turned his gaze away. He hadn't had a drop to drink since Francis and Gilbert dropped in on him that morning. He had no intentions of it, either. "If love is vulnerability, then I don't want it. No one bit. I have a reputation to uphold. Besides. Who else do I need? I have my beloved _Anna Maria_."

"Sir, if I'm not mistaken, ain't that a ship?" the ginger asked.

Antonio frowned and nodded his head. "Yes. She's a ship, but she's special to me."

"That's unhealthy."

"Yes, I know. I've been told several times over, but I don't care. She won't hurt me. I won't lose her. This Italian has to leave eventually. This Italian is just money in my pocket. I don't want to fall in love, and then have them leave. Everyone leaves or dies... I don't want that, and I don't mean to be so cruel, either, but I can't allow myself to get close to anyone. The pain of loss is far too great."

"Sir, if ya' don't mind me sayin'. You're a bloody fuckin' git. If ya' care for 'im, even if they be conflicting feelin's, then I suggest ya' take advantage of the time ya' have with 'im."

"Him? I didn't say..."

"I know."

"Then how?"

"Let's just say... I've been in a very similar situation before," the ginger said, offering Antonio a kind smile. "Your blond friend, Francis was 'is name, left this for ya'. Have a good night sir."

The bartender left a key on the countertop. Francis had paid for his room. That was kind of his friend. There had to be some catch...

The bartender then walked away, leaving Antonio with his thoughts. The key aside, he was confused. He wasn't in love. He couldn't be. His feelings were just muddles. He was just so confused. He had promised that he would never fall in love, and he had promised that he would never marry. He was not Francis. He didn't fall head over heels for anyone with a pretty face and nice legs. Antonio sighed gently and stood from his seat at the bar. He was too sober to trust himself to think. He had already rambled off to the poor bartender his woes and concerns. He just needed to go to bed. The sun had long since set on Tortuga. He'd not slept with any woman. He'd deal with Francis and Gilbert's harassment in the morning.

Antonio walked up the stairs to the upper floor of the inn. He was faced with a hall of doors and honestly, he had absolutely no idea which door was his. He had his key, and he could find it that way, but that would take so long... Still, it was all he could do. Antonio started trying doors, his hands shaky. Once or twice he managed to walk in on a couple making love, but he was quick to shut the door. Finally, he found a door that opened to an empty room.

Or a mostly empty room.

Antonio was about to enter when a bottle flew near his head and shattered against the wall. He hadn't expected it. Hell, he was hoping he'd be greeted by solitude, but that was not the case. What was inside was a complete and utter shocker. Or rather, _who_.

"Damn... That fucking frog only gave me one of those..." an irritated voice said. "Bring me another so I can throw it at you, bastardo."

The Italian. Lovino. He was sitting on the bed in his room. At least he thought it was his room. The key fit in the lock. Francis had left him the key to the room. Francis had paid for the room. Had Francis left the kid there? He had _so_ abandoned his duties. Antonio would have to get him back later. For now, he had other problems on his hands.

Another bottle came flying, and this time, it was aimed straight for his head. He ducked quickly and then looked behind him to see the bottle smashed against the hallway wall.

"I knew I had another one of those hiding in here... But you _had_ to go and duck. Couldn't just let me win for once. Bastard."

"I'm not just going to let you hit me with a bottle. What the hell are you even drinking? Who the hell gave _you_ alcohol?"

"Your dumb bastard of a blond friend told me that if I didn't tell you had left as soon as we got here that he'd give me a couple bottles of wine. I agreed, but the bastard was stupid enough to believe me," Lovino said, pausing to hiccup. "That bastard probably got me drunk just so that I wouldn't get away. Figured I'd known how to get out of this eventually." Lovino lifted his wrist. A metal shackle connected him to the rickety bed frame. "Little did he know that I wouldn't have run. I don't know where the fuck I am in Turtle _fucking_ Bay. And I don't have Feliciano. I can't just leave him behind. But, hey, free wine. Shit wine with hardly any alcoholic content, but still wine. Now, Bastardo, fucking uncuff me. I want to go take a piss, and I have no intentions of doing in this bed. That's just wrong."

Antonio stared at the Italian with a confused expression. How had the one person his mind was centered manage to find his way into Antonio's room? How had the universe been so cruel? And then it hit him. Francis was trying to set them up. He wanted Antonio to sleep with Lovino. Antonio snorted out a dry, humorless laugh that the Italian seemed to take the wrong way.

Another bottle came flying at him, but it hit the wall beside him.

"Don't laugh at me, bastardo! Have you even listened to a word I've said? I need to take a mother fucking piss."

Antonio rolled his eyes and advanced towards Lovino. He honestly just wanted the Italian to stop throwing these damned bottles. He had produced a fourth by the time the Spaniard was in front of him. Antonio took hold of the bottle and set it down on the bedside table.

"Stop. I'll let you take a damn piss," Antonio conceded.

He looked around the room for the keys to the cuffs on the boy's wrists. He found them on a hook near the door. Francis must have left them there for him. He plucked them up and walked back over to Lovino. He unlocked his cuffs and led the wobbly man over to the window.

"You want me to take a piss out of the window?"

Antonio nodded. "I don't think you'll make it downstairs. I don't trust you either. You could just bolt."

Lovino shrugged. "Look away."

Antonio obliged. He hadn't been the kindest person to the boy. He at least owed him a little personal space. He owed him the privacy of taking a piss.

"Why the hell are we here?" Lovino asked.

"Where?" Antonio could hear the stream of piss flowing out the window and hitting the cobbled road down below.

"Turtle _fucking_ Bay?"

"Francis and Gilbert thought the trip would be beneficial to the entire crew."

"I fucking hate turtles. They're fucking annoying. When I lived in the south end of Italy, they invaded the house we lived in, us boys. We had that infestation for weeks."

"Turtles are cute." Did Antonio just say that aloud? That was not fearsome at all. It was too light, too girly. What was this kid doing to him?

Antonio glanced back at Lovino. He was holding his stomach, hunched over. Antonio was about to ask him if he was okay, but the boy swiftly vomited out of the window. He wobbled slightly on his feet. He looked as if he was ready to fall right out of the window. The Spaniard took hold of him before he could fall face first into the streets. Lovino made some attempt to fight him, but the Captain managed to hold him off by wrapping his arms around in him a tight bear hug.

"Let go of me, you bastard!" Lovino yelled. He didn't put up much of a fight. He was far too drunk.

"No. Shut up and sit still before you hurt yourself!"

"Right. Before _I_ hurt _myself_. Right. Thanks. It's not like you've never hurt me before."

Images of the boy after his lashing raced through the Captain's mind as he wrestled Lovino back onto the bed. He hadn't wanted that. He hadn't meant it to happen.

"I'm sorry," He said, cuffing Lovino back to the bed.

"Bullshit. If you actually _meant_ it, you wouldn't have sent me to do your dirty work. You would have actually given me a few words more than an order or a demand," Lovino spat. "You know, I thought you actually cared. I listened to your little sob story. I thought that there might be something behind that mean and cruel demeanor. But no. There's only you. And you're a bastard. And I hate you. Stay the fuck away from me. You don't _deserve_ my forgiveness."

Antonio felt wounded. He didn't know what to say to the Italian. He had allowed the truth to so easily fall from his lips when Antonio had only uttered lies since the moment they'd met.

"No, I don't, but I truly am sorry. Really. I didn't mean to hurt you..." Antonio muttered. "My head is just a mess of emotions and feelings towards you that I don't understand."

"You have feelings? What feelings could _you_ have towards _me_ , Bastard?"

The Captain honestly didn't know. Were they affectionate? Were they full of love? Love was a strong word to Antonio. He had always thought he'd never love. This wasn't love, though. Or was it? Was it just affection? No, it wasn't. It was simply confusion. The Captain was sober and confused. His mind couldn't be trusted in such a state.

With a deep sigh, he sat beside Lovino, his brows furrowed. "Honestly, I haven't the slightest clue. I'm confused. I don't know how to feel around you. I feel regret for what I have done to you, but I know I shouldn't. I'm a pirate. I don't _regret_ my actions. I plow through. I don't have remorse. I don't _care_ for anyone, but for some reason, I find myself caring about every little nuance that is you. Starting with the mystery that is your eyes... You're so infuriating..."

"You're a stupid bastard," Lovino retorted, his words slurred from the amount of alcohol he had already consumed. Antonio could also see the exhaustion on his features.

"I know."

"You're a drunk one, too. Go the fuck away, and let me sleep. I don't want to see you."

Drowsiness was setting over Antonio's body as well. He looked over at the boy. "Actually, I'm sober."

"Whoopdeefuckingdoo. Do you want a fucking medal?"

Antonio ignored him. "I'm rather tired as well... And you're in my bed... I don't think I'm going to go. I think I'm going to stay right here and fall asleep.

"No. Get the fuck out," Lovino protested.

"I paid for the room," he lied. "Just shut up and let me sleep..." Antonio tugged his boots from his feet. He then peeled his red coat from his shoulders and hung it on the metal frame of the bed. He looked back to the boy, green eyes catching amber ones.

Those eyes... They were filled with so much emotion. He couldn't pick out any individual one. Much was hidden behind those pools of amber and green. They stared back at Antonio, taunting him with the secrets that they held in their depth. He wanted so desperately to ask the boy to spill those secrets, but he knew his attempts would be in vain. Lovino clearly hated him as he had already stated. Antonio knew not how to fix that.

"I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but please, just allow me to try and prove that I can earn it... Let me prove you wrong... Let me show you that I'm not heartless."

Lovino looked at the Captain skeptically. He cautiously nodded before scooting closer to the wall. "I'll give you one fucking chance, but believe me, bastard, you fuck up once, and you won't ever earn it..."

Antonio nodded. This was his only chance. He knew this. He'd never get another chance if he managed to fuck this up, and he could tell just by the way those eyes stared back at him. They told no lies that he could see. The Captain would earn this man's trust and respect, even if it was the last thing he did. For some reason, he cared about the boy. Maybe it was the fire that was hidden deep inside of him. Maybe it was just the way he cared about his family despite what he'd gone through. Or maybe it was the strength he'd built in his character over the year. Maybe it was because, in a way, he could relate to some of the pain the boy felt. He could relate to some of those sufferings. He did not know. He was drawn to the boy, not because he was a damsel in distress. He was not some hero in their story. No. He was a villain, that he knew, and he was seeking forgiveness from the mighty King on his throne. This was the only monarch he'd ever attempt to please. God, it was all a mess in his mind, one that wasn't helped by his sober thoughts. He was far too sentimental. He was growing far too attracted to this man for his tastes... But it was happening, and he felt as though he couldn't stop it.

The male lay down next to the younger, his head falling to the pillow. He fell asleep almost instantly, the lull of exhaustion pulling him under.

 **A/N/: So. That's the end of the chapter. It was a lot friggin' longer than I had intended. I could have jammed Gilbert's story onto the last chapter and made for a better update. But of course, I was being a pessimist, thinking I wouldn't have enough content on this one. Well. Whatever.**

 **By the way, I meant** ligger **. Not the derogatory word that starts with an N.**

 **I hope you like what I did with Bella. She has more personality now. It kinda explains why she's such a quiet character. I was honestly hella proud of what I managed to find. She was gonna poison her fiancé, to begin with, but I was just looking for poisons of the fifteen** hundreds **. And there it was. Belladonna. As soon as I saw the name I was set. I was rolling with happiness.**

 **Also, to be quite honest, I wish I had done the storyline between Arthur and Alfred differently. Just for character development sake. I wish I had made Alfred the pirate. Arthur the British Royal** Navyman **. It would have made a beautiful transition to two-hundred years in the future with the American revolution. But alas, my ideas came far too late. ; - ;**

 **As far as the SpaMano goes, I hope you enjoyed that. I know it's been a while without our two fated lovers. Well. Eventual lovers.**

 **I hope you enjoyed that. Don't be shy. Comment. Please. It makes my days so much better to see your reactions to things. Tell your friends about this too. Cause. I want ALL OF THE PEOPLE to read it. I hope you read that in a** memey **way, too. Cause. Memes.**

 **End of the forever-long Author's note.**

 **~Gravey**


	6. Chapter 6

_Antonio_

The sun was shining through the curtains of his shabby, little room. Seagulls and other various birds made an annoying amount of chatter outside of his window. The noise from down below in the tavern had died down and become silent. It was morning. Antonio was waking from his delirium and his dreams...

To find himself in a tangled, naked mass, the Italian named Lovino resting on his chest. The boy was uncuffed, sleeping soundly. Antonio had a massive, throbbing headache in his skull, and he couldn't exactly place why. He remembered nothing of what happened after he declared his feelings and made his plea for forgiveness. He had blacked out shortly after laying beside Lovino. He didn't remember removing his clothes. He remembered nothing at all, and that fact scared him. From the looks of it, something _had_ happened. He was naked with the Italian. God, he couldn't remember a thing. Had they had sex? Had Antonio given himself to the Italian and forgotten every moment of it? That would be disappointing. He would have rather remembered that. God, what was happening to him? Did he favor the male gender just as Francis had suggested? He had no idea. He was naked, and he had no explanation as to why. Antonio looked at the sleeping Italian on his chest, a small smile slowly creeping onto his lips. If he had given himself over to this boy, then it didn't matter. He didn't care. He would have preferred to remember it, but at least it would have been him, the object of his affections. This was someone had had some sort of feelings for. They were feelings despite the fact that he was still struggling to sort them out.

"Quit staring at me you fucking perverted bastard..." Lovino mumbled, his amber eyes cracking open.

Antonio averted his green gaze for a moment. The Italian was still hostile towards him. That hadn't changed. He felt it never would. It just seemed to be his personality. Maybe it was his way of showing affection.

"Lovinito," he asked tentatively. "Do you remember what happened last night?"

"Yes, I do. It seems like you were too delirious to remember... Dumbass bastard," Lovino grumbled. "And don't talk so loud. I may have puked out my guts last night, but I drank a lot and I have a fucking hangover."

That answered one question. Usually, he always had a drink. He never went long without the lull of alcohol. From the sounds of it, the delirium and lack of memory were from a sudden bout of withdrawal. That, however, left one question unanswered. "Did we...?"

"No, bastard. I'd hope you'd remember something like that. No. You woke up with fucking hot flashes and wouldn't strip until I agreed to ask well. Stupid, delirious bastard. You're so damn needy."

Antonio sighed gently. Part of him was relieved, relieved that he didn't waste a major life experience while he was too out of it to remember. The other part of his wished something had happened between them both. Maybe it would have made Lovino trust him. Was it wrong to want that? He smiled gently and wrapped an arm around the Italian's shoulder. Lovino didn't shrug him off or even protest. He simply plastered that familiar scowl onto his features.

"Don't tell my brother or you stupid friends about this, bastard," he snapped. "If I hear a word of it of it... Well, you best hope you have a decent voice to sing with."

"Why?"

Lovino made a swift cutting motion with his hands. Antonio looked at him with a puzzled expression before his eyes flicked down below his waist. Then it hit him. His green gaze immediately shot upwards towards Lovino.

The Spaniard rubbed the back of his neck, making some attempt to look nonchalant. "Oh, believe me, I had no intentions of that..." he muttered. "I'm sorry by the way."

"Why?"

"For making you uncomfortable last night. I'm sure you weren't fond of sleeping with another man, especially in the nude. You probably weren't comfortable with sleeping with another man at all."

"And you were?"

Antonio paused. He hadn't put much thought to it. Answering this question with a positive would mean he would be confirming Francis' suspicions. Answering with a negative could very well offend Lovino. He was conflicted.

"Yes," he said after a long moment. "Yes, I suppose I was."

"Just don't let it happen again, bastard!" Lovino blushed a bright crimson, turning his amber gaze away. "I thought you were shipping off by dawn."

Antonio's eyes again widened slightly, and he groaned. He had broken his own curfew. Bella was going to have his ass. Gilbert and Francis would surely question him later. Their wagers had been set on him sleeping with a girl last night at the very least. He had slept with someone, but it was not who they would have imagined. They'd hound him with questions as soon as he boarded the _Wandering Anna Maria_. Antonio groaned once more and sat up, Lovino moving with him.

"We should go."

"It's about damn time. Feliciano is going to be crying with worry. And _that_ will just make my hangover and headache even worse..."

Antonio climbed from the bed, surprised that he had actually allowed himself to wear such scarce amounts of clothing, especially in front of another person. Bella, Francis, and Gilbert had seen him stark naked before; the latter of the two had a very special and information circumstance in their early teens. He also couldn't believe he made Lovino join him in the nude, either. It was hard to get him to undress, but he hadn't expected the young, cold Italian to conform so easily.

Antonio looked around the shabby room for his clothing. He found them in a messy pile on the floor. His red coat, however, hung neatly on the bed frame where he had left it the night before. He began to dress hastily, a shyness creeping over him. He was never usually this modest, but with the present company in mind, he had to be. Antonio had assumed Lovino was dressing as well until he suddenly spoke.

"You have your own scars to match..." he said softly, his voice eerily distant.

The Captain paused for a moment. Yes. He had scars to match the boy's on his back. "It happened a long time ago... In prison. They tried to put fear into me through beatings... I was keen on escape to return to my family, and they had every intention of breaking me. It never worked. We all have scars... Gilbert, like us, has visible ones. Francis has them on his heart and soul Bella... She may do a damned good job at hiding it, but she's got mental lacerations just the same..." Antonio said, pulling his pants over his bare muscular legs. He didn't look at the boy. His eyes were focused on the window that looked out on the bay. He could see the _Wandering Anna Maria_ floating offshore in all of her magnificence. "You, however, should not match my scars. You should be clean of them. You will have them forever, and it's all my fault."

"It's not so bad when the cuts heal. It doesn't even feel like they're there anymore," Lovino said. "Besides, it's not as if I haven't endured pain like this before. There were times as a kid when I'd get caught on a particularly difficult pickpocket. They officers in town would give me a nasty beating for those."

Lovino spoke so nonchalantly about the pain he had endured as a child, but Antonio only felt fury boiling in his veins. How could someone do that to him? How could someone do that to a child? Where had the nobility and chivalry in men gone? Was it all but nonexistent? Antonio turned to face the boy who sat on the edge of the bed looking back at him. The Spaniard stared at him with a hard expression. "Still..." Antonio said. "Don't take it so lightly. It's a cruel thing, what I did to you."

Lovino shrugged keeping that same air of casual nonchalance and then immediately flushed crimson. "Quit staring at me while I'm indecent, bastard," he snapped. "You really are a fucking pervert."

"Lo siento, Lovinito," Antonio said, averting his eyes. He didn't mention how Lovino was staring at _him_ while. He was too distracted to mention it at this point. He hadn't even realized the boy was still nude at first, but the sight of him was truly something. It brought upon a feeling below his waist that he was not entire used to unless with was in the safety of his cabin. This feeling was certainly unwelcome now. He shook his head gently and reached for his shirt. He slipped the fabric over his head and glanced back at the boy once more. He had his pants on now, his back to Antonio. Those scars that marred his back glowed a pale white against his natural olive skin tone. They littered the soft skin of his muscular back. Not all of them were healed just yet, not the deeper ones at least. He could even pick out a few more faded scars. Those must have been the ones Lovino mentioned before. The Spaniard felt a pang of remorse and sighed gently.

"I care about you, please know that. Even if it's in a strange way, believe me. You're not... You're not _just money_ to me, no matter what I've said. I think Fate has put you into my life for a reason, even if that reason is not yet clear to me..."

Antonio turned away from the boy and pulled on the rest of his clothing, including his red coat. The weather was surely going to be hot and sticky, but in the presence of other pirates, he needed that fearsome air. He then swiftly left the room. He needed to give the boy a few minutes alone. It would also be best if Francis did not find him there when he came to retrieve the boy. Besides, he had to purchase a few things from the marketplaces in Tortuga.

 _Lovino_

The Spaniard left the room after quickly stealing a few short words. He didn't even give Lovino a chance to respond. His behavior... This was so strange to him. Like. What the actual fuck? He was used to the cruelty this man had shown him, not the kindness. Or, well, the attempts at it. Hell, this was all so unexpected. Although it was strange, he enjoyed it. Hell, he was fucking relieved. He wasn't sure how much more of his ornery bull shit he could take. It was Lovino's job to be the grumpy one. He didn't like the Spaniard stealing his thunder.

And what the hell was his whole spiel about Fate and shit? _Fate_ didn't bring them together. _Fate_ wasn't a real thing. It was just a fucking coincidence. He didn't believe in any of that bullshit. He believed in the facts.

It was a fact that there was more to the Spaniard than Lovino had initially thought. He had _thought_ that the Captain was just a drunken dick, but he was learning that there was more. The night previous had gone to show that Antonio Fernandez Carriedo had many layers beneath his tough exterior, especially when sober. It was rare to see him as such. Lovino knew he was making some attempt to please him, but try as he might, that bastard would not from him until he put in the hard work to earn it...

He had been so angry with the bastard, too. He just wanted to throw bottle after bottle at his damned head, but the idiot kept on dodging them. He had been close the first two times when he still had the element of surprise on his side. The bastard deserved it for annoying the hell out of him. First, he was an ass. Then he was kind. Then he was an ass again. He deserved every bottle Lovino threw in his direction. Then they had gone to bed, and it was silent. They slept comfortably for a good amount of the night.

That is until this bastard woke him. And, God, did he hate being woken up, especially by annoying bastards.

Antonio was tossing and turning, a cold sweat covering his body. He had woken Lovino with all of his movement. The Italian had a nasty hangover, but he managed to wake the Spaniard into a delirious stupor.

"Bastard, what's wrong?" Lovino asked, his voice raspy and quiet. A scowl was plastered onto his features. He did _not_ want to be awake.

Antonio whispered an incoherent, "Nightmares."

Nightmares... Lovino had plenty of experience with those. He thought it best to talk them out. "What happened...? Tell me," he demanded.

Antonio shook his head in refusal.

"Antonio, they say that if you talk about your dreams and nightmares, they won't come back... Believe me, I used to get them, too. Please, tell me..." The name felt so foreign coming off of Lovino's lips. He had yet to say the man's name. And he had no intentions of ever saying it again.

He half expected the angry captain to yell at him or turn him away, but he allowed a few mumbled words to escape his lips. "I went home, and _Anna Maria..._ She was gone..." Antonio mumbled, his green eyes full of horror. Behind that horror was an unfamiliar, lost look. He seemed to be in so much pain and despair.

Over his _fucking_ ship.

Lovino shook his head and placed his hands on either side of Antonio's face. His skin was hot to the touch even though a cold sweat covered the rest of him. He was feverish. "It was just a nightmare. It wasn't real. She's out in the harbor now... You need to go to bed and sleep out the rest of this..." This _what_? He wasn't a physician like Antonio. How the hell was he supposed to know what was going on?

"It's too hot..." Antonio whined. "It's _too_ hot."

That he could help. He had a fever as a child. Grandpa had cooled him down with a cold bath. They didn't have that at the moment, so the alternative was his best bet.

"Then strip."

"No."

"Why?"

"It would be awkward," Antonio said sheepishly, his green eyes glazed over.

 _Now_ he chose to be modest. Not each time he was pissed off and yelling. No, he chose now when he was ill. "Do it, bastard. You're burning up."

"Not unless you do it, too."

"This bastard was such a _petulant_ child when he was ill. "No. You're the one that is hot."

"Please," Antonio pleaded. He sounded so broken. He couldn't deny that broken man.

Lovino groaned and reluctantly nodded. "Fine... Just don't look."

The Italian reached over Antonio for the keys he had left on the bedside table. The dumb bastard. He was so careless. If he had wanted to, he could have snuck out and run after finding Feli. That, or he could have killed the dumb Spaniard. That man was so careless. Lovino looked at the keys and tried them until he found one that opened the cuffs on his wrist. He freed himself and then pulled off his shirt, careful not to snag the last of the healing cuts on his back. The moon was his only source of light. Any flames in the room had long since burned out. The cold night air hit him like a punch to the chest, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

He craved to sleep in comfort, in a bed, undressed. He hadn't done so in some weeks, four to be precise. He was glad, however, that he'd decided to wear clothes the night the Captain stole him from his bed.

Now that same Bastard stood nude in front of him, eating up all of his attention. Lovino let his amber eyes roam the Spaniard's body curiously. His curls, which were usually tied back with a ribbon and other various pieces of fabric, were freed and wild. They sprang out in many directions, giving the Captain a boyish look. His chest was toned and muscular. The area just south of the equator was nothing short of impressive, too. Then he turned. Lovino sucked in another breath, but this one was not because of the cold. Antonio had turned his back to Lovino. Damn, did that man have an ass.

The Italian averted his eyes as soon as he realized he had been gawking at the older man. His cheeks flushed and he looked to the ground.

In those few, brief, distracted moments, the Conquistador made his move. He pounced upon Lovino and pinned him to the bed. Lovino bit back a shriek as Antonio straddled him, a triumphant and naughty look in his emerald eyes. God, he resembled the fucking Bad Touch Trio in that moment. He grinned toothily down at Lovino. The bastard had fucking tricked him, hadn't he? He seemed to have forgotten his nightmare already. Fucking dick. The Italian would have fought him off had it not been for the alluring look about the Spaniard. He flushed a deeper shade of crimson., his eyes focused on Antonio.

"You're handsome, you know. The way you blush when you're nervous, the way you look away when you realize you've been staring. Simply the way you look," Antonio whispered. Lovino wanted to scoff. These were all things that had happened in the last minute alone. "And, God, your eyes. They tell so much, but I can't decipher their words... I want you... Yet you're so inexplicably unavailable."

"What do you mean?" Lovino asked, staring upwards at the Spanish man.

"You're going home eventually... In a few weeks," he uttered, his grip tightening for only a moment before falling loose. "I don't want you to go. I think I finally feel happy with you around... I cried the other night, and I haven't cried in years..."

Lovino opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He had no idea what to say. He simply shook his head. He had made the bastard cry. Sure, he had tried that. His yelling usually made people cry, especially the younger kids back in Southern Italy and Feliciano, but he didn't think he'd get through to _the Captain_. He stared at the man for a moment longer.

"You have to go, though. It's problematic to want you, but I can't help it. You're like a drug. You're like alcohol. I crave you. I _need_ you in turn of that. But if I can't have you, I'll spiral... What do I do?" Antonio asked. That mischievous look was no longer gleaming in his emerald eyes. It had disappeared. The Spaniard rolled off of him and laid on his back. He pulled Lovino close to him and sighed. "So, for now, I suppose I can suffice with just holding you close."

God, this bastard was so fucking bipolar. He said one thing then did another. He was a confusing shit head, that was for sure. Lovino rested his head on Antonio's chest and smiled a small, nearly non-existent smile, because what the hell? He might as well.

"Okay, whatever you want, bastard."

The last thing Lovino remembered before falling asleep was the faint scent of Spanish flowers.

Antonio seemed not to remember a single thing about that incident. He actually seemed concerned when he and Lovino woke up together in the nude. He seemed concerned and Lovino hysterical. He didn't let a single laugh escape his lips. He kept his composure and explained what had happened.

But he wasn't actually going to tell the idiot any of that shit. No, he fucking sugarcoated that bullshit. There was no way in hell that he'd let his emotions as easily as that stupid Spanish bastard did. He wasn't a fool like him. Hell, he wasn't even sure, now that he was thinking the events of the night previous, that the man understood what was going on inside of his own damned head. He was _so_ stupid... His subconscious tried to tell him things, and he didn't understand what they were saying. He tried to verbalize them, but that only left the Italian feeling quite creeped out. Flattered, but creeped out. He'd push through it, though, for as long as he was stuck in this man's life. He would be lying if he didn't admit that he was attracted to the man despite what an asshole he could be.

His ass was absolutely phenomenal! He had never seen another man's look so bare and in pants. He had never really cared to look at another man's ass before, so he didn't have much as far as a comparison, but damn, Antonio had a nice one.

The scars on his back, however... He hadn't noticed them in the darkness the night previous. His eyes were focused elsewhere, but now that he had seen them... They left a nagging ache at Lovino's center. Were they what had started the man's downward spiral into alcoholism? From what he had been told, Antonio was once a lighthearted, happy man. Somewhere along the line that had to change... The scars must have been the start. Alcohol had eased his pain then, but what would ease it now that he had voluntarily emptied the casks and allowed them to run dry?

Lovino's thoughts were cut short when the door to the room suddenly slammed open.

"Bonjour, mon petit Italien!" a sing-song voice called.

Francis.

He was beaming with happiness, that much Lovino could tell by on a glance. Lovino groaned and searched for something, anything to throw. He was fresh out of bottles. Antonio had taken the last one when he left. All he had were his boots. He dove for the leather item and whipped it in blond's direction. It was a hit.

"Shut the fuck up, cheese eating wine bastard!" Lovino grumbled. "I've got a fucking hangover, and you're slamming the fucking door. Stop that dumb bullshit and shut the fuck up."

Francis gingerly picked up Lovino's boot between his index finger and thumb and handed it to Lovino. "Get yourself together. We need to get back to the _Wandering Anna Maria_."

"Where's Bella?"

"My _lovely_ sister asked me to retrieve you this morning. She was rather rude if I do say so myself. Where he manners have gone, I've no idea. She interrupted- _Ow!_ Mathieu!"

"Shut the hell up Francis," Matthew said. "You running your mouth on about things Lovino doesn't want to know. Can't you clearly see he's bored?"

"Fine..." the man grumbled. "Come now, Lovino. We need to find Gilbert and beat my darling friend back to his ship..."

Lovino begrudgingly pulled on his boots and followed the two Frenchmen out of the room. They found Gilbert downstairs with the Austrian. Roderich was his name, Lovino recalled. The man had introduced himself one night down in the brig. He was pompous, but he wasn't a bad guy. He felt bad for him. Gilbert must have been harassing him. When Gilbert spotted the trio approaching him, however, he stopped speaking to Roderich and grinned widely. Lovino groaned.

"Francis! It's about damn time! Been looking all over for 'ya!" Gilbert exclaimed his toothy grin widening. He had his stupidly adorable bird on his shoulder.

"No, you weren't. You only woke up from that comatose state you call sleep ten minutes ago," Roderich stated, his brow raised high.

Gilbert shot him an annoyed look. "Well, let's get a move on. Toni's gonna have our asses if we don't get his precious Italian back on the _Wandering Anna Maria_ before he is."

Lovino shrugged. They stood there for a long moment, a certain amber-eyed Sicilian growing increasingly frustrated. "Then get your asses moving. You sit there and _say_ we need to move, but you don't do anything. Fucking stupid ass bastards..."

The Italian walked out of the door of the inn and took a look around. The area wasn't completely familiar to him, but he watched where they went the night before. He started on a route that was somewhat familiar to him and he found that Gilbert fell into step with him. The albino was quiet for a few moments, but as Lovino had expected, he began talking not long after.

"You noticed them, too, right? Our brothers?" he asked quietly. It was as if he didn't want anyone else to hear their conversation.

"What do you mean?" Lovino asked, his eyes narrowing at the man.

"They like each other, I think. Just the way West looks at your brother. It's something I haven't seen since he was a little kid. It's admiration and love. He used to look at me like that, but not anymore. He looks at Feliciano with the most adoring gaze..." Gilbert whispered.

Lovino wrinkled his nose. "I have no idea what you're fucking talking about," he snapped. But he did. He knew exactly what this pale bastard was talking about. He saw the way Feliciano looked at that stupid Potato Bastard. He looked at him with fascination and joy. He had such a fondness in his eyes. But his brother was naïve as hell. He didn't know what was best for him. Hell, Lovino didn't know what was best for him, either, but he knew that the Potato Bastard wasn't best for him.

"I'm sure you do, Lovino. I know you see it..." he muttered. "Listen, don't get in the way of it... Who are we to interfere with their happiness?"

Lovino's scowl deepened. He didn't want to think about this. He was in a good mood before this conversation. Why did these stupid bastards always have to piss him off?

"What are you talking about over there, my friends?" Francis interjected.

Gilbert glanced back at Francis before quickly whispering, "Sorry 'bout this, Lovino..." The bastard then turned back to Francis. "Just talkin' 'bout West. But back to _your_ brother, Lovino. I'm almost positive that Luddy likes him. Maye at least just a little. I could truss _him_ up and leave him in Ludwig's room tonight. I'm sure I'll hear them all evening, but he really does need something to get his mind off of more... pressing matters. Even if it's just for a night..."

And that's when Lovino lost it. He started yelling at Gilbert in rapid-fire Italian. How dare he speak about his younger brother in that way, even if it was jokingly? How _dare_ he suggest that Feliciano would have _sex_ with that Potato Bastard! How dare he even mention it in front of Lovino.

The Italian stood there yelling until his face was read. Slews of profanities and curses escaped his lips. God, he wanted to kill this bastard. When he had finally had his fill, he turned on his heel and stormed back to the _Wandering Anna Maria_. He didn't bother with an escape attempt. He didn't have Feliciano with him. He couldn't go anywhere without him. But God was he pissed. He stormed down the docks and up the gangplank.

He had to salvage his good mood. He brushed past everyone on the ship and walked down below. He went to dig through the mess that the Captain called a cargo hold. He had a plan for the day, one that would get his mind off of his brother and the stupid Potato Bastard. A few ideas, actually. He was going to salvage his good mood. He was going to put it to good use. Some of his best creative works had come out of his good moods. He hoped that this one would be just the same.

 _Antonio_

Red shining beauties stood on a cart in front of him. Beautiful, glossy skin shone in the early morning light. They drew in his emerald gaze. They called to him from their perch. He simply wanted to sink his teeth down deep into the sweet juicy flesh. Oh, how he loved that glorious fruit. Tomatoes. He could eat them for the rest of his life and never grow tired of them. Such a marvelous fruit they were.

Antonio stood in the market place in front of a stall of fresh fruits and vegetables. He needed some food for their journey as well as dinner that night. They were in port where fresh food was available. In the middle of the ocean, one couldn't simply find a farm. Tortuga had plenty to offer the Captain and his crew. There were open air markets. There were small, quiet inns. It wasn't all just drunk pirates, himself included. He loved the hidden gems such as these beautiful, ripe tomatoes.

Antonio's green eyes wandered upwards and connected with the stall owner's. "I'll take thirty," he said, a faint smile forming on his lips.

The stall owner returned that smile and bagged the fruit before handing it over to Antonio.

He'd told his crew to pick some of the larger essentials like water before they left port that morning, but he wanted to get just a smaller things that they were unlikely to remember. He walked around the market and picked up a few more items that he didn't have on board, things that they went through so quickly. He grabbed eggs and flour, just some items that they no longer had stock of down below. He also picked up a few spices. He figured that a few simple spices might make the cook's meals a hell of a lot more bearable. He wasn't in the mood to deal with sludge as his dinner.

He also picked up a few more of the essentials, a razor included. Over the last few weeks, Lovino had gotten a little scruffy. The boy had been given a dull, old razor to give himself a shoddy, rough shave. He was sure that it was an unsatisfactory feeling to him. A new blade could do wonders for the kid. Of course, he didn't really want him to have any sort of weapon, but a shave became necessary in the heat of the Caribbean. Maybe he'd just take it back when the kid was done shaving.

Yes, that would have to do.

Antonio the began his walk back towards the _Wandering Anna Maria_ , his bags of groceries and supplies in hand.

The Captain sauntered onto the dock towards his ship, his arms full and his head held high. He was tired and he skull still had an ever present ache all around. The morning light may have been just a tad too bright for his sensitive, green eyes, but he did not care. He held his gaze steady. He was in a good mood. He hadn't been in one in such a long time. He could so easily fall back into some of his old hobbies, his loves for the day. His fingers ached to pluck a few strings. He was only allowing that good mood to seep through his posture and his facial expression. He did not need his crew learning about his formerly delirious state. They needed to follow his orders. He needed them to take him seriously. They'd only do that if he was fearsome or if he was in a good mood. Otherwise, they'd take him for a fool. Francis and Gilbert wouldn't take him seriously if _they_ knew. They probably already had an inquiry to face him with. He didn't need their additional sass.

From a distance, Antonio saw a familiar Italian storming up the gangplank of the _Wandering Anna Maria_. It was Lovino. Why wasn't he with Francis and Gilbert? Had his friends simply allowed the Italian to run off? It was entirely irresponsible of them. Didn't they know the boy's tendencies? He could run at any minute.

He groaned internally. Both of the two aforementioned members of the Bad Touch Trio came running up the gangplank as he neared. They had the Austrian Princess and the French Informant in tow. They stopped as soon as they caught sight of him. Antonio cursed to himself and shifted his groceries in his arms. He was hoping they'd at least beat him there. He was hoping he'd be able to sneak through the rather large bay window at the back of his quarters. It wouldn't have been the first time he'd done it. But alas, that was wishful thinking. Now they'd surely spotted him, seeing as how Gilbert stopped on the gangplank, a devilish grin spreading across his pale lips. He'd simply have to improvise.

"Francis, Gilbert, what the hell are you doing walking onto my ship late? Don't you know that you should have had those prisoners back on my ship by dawn?"

"I just dragged these two lovers out of bed," Gilbert retorted, pointing at Francis and Matthew.

"Then why do you have him?" Antonio asked, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the Austrian Princess.

"You told me to keep an eye on him," the Prussian replied with a lazy shrug.

"And where is the older Italian? Where is Lovino. You two were supposed to keep an eye on him, too," Antonio stated.

"He ran off ahead of us. He was eager to find his brother," Gilbert said with a suggestive wiggle of his brows.

"Mon copain! Last night was crazy! Believe me, I have every reason to be late!" Francis swooned. "I was delayed by _love!_ "

"Last night was rather calm if I do recall," Antonio said with a roll of his eyes. "I have doubts love had anything to do with this." Antonio couldn't be bothered to argue. He had to busy himself with saving his own ass from their questions.

"Oh, yes, the fearsome Conquistador does not believe in love," Francis said, his sarcasm biting deep.

"Love is folly, nothing more," he said, his eyes briefly shifting towards the direction in which Lovino had run off. Those words nagged at him for some reason, especially after the morning he'd had. He couldn't allow himself to read too deeply into those thoughts, though. They were a dangerous territory. He looked to Francis, Matthew, and Roderich. "Get your asses on the ship and help the crew. Francis, you may be my friend, but you sailed into port with me. While _Le Bateau de la Rose_ is without you, you will be under my command. And I won't be having any dead weight while we're casting off. Gilbert, go get back to your own ship and prepare to cast off. We need to get out of port."

He brushed past his friends onto his ship. He first went down to the galley and dropped off all of his shopping. He could sort through it and claim his tomatoes later on. He then went back on deck. As far as he could tell, the crew was already preparing for the day ahead of them. The sun was rising in the sky, and they seemed to be behind. The Captain's French first mate was yelling orders They were surely late as well. They deserved every reprimand they were getting while they were working. Antonio loved how menacing Bella managed to become when she wanted to. She had put the fear of God into Antonio's crew more than once. The Captain stood watching, and when Bella noticed him, she gave a brief not before gesturing for Antonio to come near her. He returned the nod and approached the woman.

"Is there a problem, Bella?" Antonio asked, tilting his head of untamed curls to the side.

"Pardon my saying this, Captain, but I think it would be in our best interest to stay here for a day or two, Captain," she said firmly, facing him. She didn't seem to mean the pardon she had asked for.

"And why is that?"

"Your crew, like the incompetent asses they are, aren't sobered up enough to safely maneuver _Anna Maria_ out of such a busy bay," she said, resting her hands on her hips.

Antonio snorted. He didn't put it past his men to drink until dawn. Hell, a lot of the time, he had joined them. "And what do you suggest we do in the time that we aren't pillaging the seas?"

" _Anna Maria_ needs repairs. Sh is a little worn from the battle with the _Lady Beth_. We should give her the love she needs."

"Fine. I want to be out of here by tomorrow or the day after at the latest. We can't afford to be docked any longer. We already missed the trade ship from the British Royal Navy. I'm sure we can intercept a ship from the East India Trading company if we leave within the next two days."

"Understood."

"Thank you, Bella."

"Of course, Captain."

Antonio walked away from his first mate as soon as she began yelling out orders. Bella could handle what went on on deck. Antonio needed to escape the worsening headache in his skull. He found himself gravitating towards his quarters.

He was greeted by a silent, dim room. His cabin faced away from the sun. Only the glow from the blue sky evaded the shadows. This he could handle. He sat down behind his desk after shedding his red coat. He closed his eyes, resting his head on his hand. Gilbert and Francis hadn't thought to ask him where he was and why he was late, but they'd surely arrive the moment they realized. They'd come demand answers, and they'd demand an answer to their so-called wager. But therein lay the problem He remembered next to nothing from the night before, and that worried him. Lovino had said nothing had happened, but that didn't mean that Antonio hadn't said something to the boy. He could have professed any number of secrets he housed in his head. It wouldn't have been the first time. He could have let loose some of his deepest, darkest secrets. That was something he could not afford with the boy leaving so soon. He wanted to gain his trust, not send him running for the hills. He'd torture himself if he allowed it to blossom for only a moment before it withered and died. Antonio groaned and rested his forehead on his desk. He could go for a few more hours of sleep to rid himself of his skull shattering headache. That rest would never come. It never seemed to. Not with them around...

The door to his cabin slammed open, making Antonio jump from surprise then cringe in pain. There was too much noise for his morning.

"Mon copain, you never did tell us why _you_ were late," Francis explained, entering the room. Gilbert swaggered in behind him. He could have sworn he told that albino to leave.

"Francis quit your damn shouting. And don't slam that door again, either. My skull feels like it's ready to burst..."

"Someone was drinking last night," Gilbert tutted, crossing his arms over his chest. His little yellow bird sat upon his shoulder, twittering softly. Antonio assumed he was reiterating what Gilbert had said.

"No, actually, I didn't... I didn't have a drop. It's called withdrawal. And it's murderous," Antonio muttered. He snorted and leaned back in his chair. God, he felt just as grumpy going through withdrawal as he did when he was drunk. He stared at his friends with tired, bloodshot eyes. It was getting worse. "I know you have questions. Go ahead, ask away."

Francis took that as an invitation to take a seat across from Antonio. "Did you do it? Did you find yourself a one night lover?"

Gilbert sat beside him and leaned his elbows on his knees. "Tell me, was she pretty? Did she have nice breasts?"

"Why do you only care about..." Antonio wrinkled his nose in disgust. "No, I did not. There was no woman."

"So it was a man?" Francis asked, wiggling his brows.

"No. There was no one."

"What the hell do you mean? That inn was _full_ of pretty girls!" Gilbert seemed genuinely enraged by this.

"How the hell did you know where I was? I only saw Francis... Ugh... We think too much alike... Nevermind that... There was no one. I simply sat at the bar and harassed the poor Irish man more than I should have."

"And you didn't go to bed with _anyone_ at all, my friend?"

"No. I went to bed alone and woke up with one devil of a headache," he said, rubbing his temples. He ignored the nagging that the lie brought about. On one hand, he wanted to tell his friends the truth. It wasn't a feeling he was used to, regret and remorse. He hated how it kept popping up in his life as of late. Not only was he lying to his two best mates, but he was lying about whom he had been with... But he had promised him, Lovino... His Italian. Wait... When had he become his?

"What about the boy? The grumpy Italian?" Francis asked as if reading the Captain's mind. "You didn't have an amazing night with him?"

Antonio forced a scowl on his face despite the smile that threatened to crack free. "Francis, if you ever shirt your duties and pull that bullshit again, I will leave you here, on this island with all of the cutthroat pirates to find you way back to _le Bateau de la Rose_ on your own. You know how they feel about royal navymen, don't you?"

"You wouldn't dare..." Francis muttered, rubbing his throat subconsciously.

"So he _was_ there?" Gilbert interjected. "Fuck! Does that mean you win the bet?"

"No. He does not. I didn't sleep with him..." Antonio muttered. He didn't have sex, so it wasn't a total lie this time.

"Then where did he sleep? Because that boy seemed happy for once when he picked him up this morning. I mean, Gilbert did piss him off, but that is still a far stretch from his usual attitude towards us," Francis asked. "Mind you, he was in _your_ room when he found him, 'Tonio."

"I slept on the floor. I was too tired to care, and now I have this devil of a headache. So if you two could please leave me alone for a few minutes. Do something productive in the meantime. We're not shipping for another two days. I'd love to spend time with you later, but just a minute of silence is all I ask."

Francis stood, a defeated, irritated look plastered on his face. He left without waiting for Gilbert. The Prussian stood slowly, his eyes wandering around the room.

"Hey... Antonio?" he asked slowly. "Can you think about something for me?"

"What is it, Gil?"

"The Austrian is a musician, right? You said he was off of a British ship?"

Antonio nodded. "He was traveling with the crew of the _Lady Beth_ to England to play for the king, I believe."

"Well, I think maybe he'd give you fewer problems if you let him play that piano over there..." Gilbert said, his gaze falling on the beautiful instrument.

Antonio's eyes follow his gaze to a grand piano off again the wall in the corner of the room. It was made of a deep brown wood. It faced so the player had a view of the entire room as well as out of the window. Antonio had stolen it off that same British ship he had gotten the Austrian from. It was too beautiful to surrender to the unforgiving sea. The Captain had made few attempts to play it since he had acquired it some weeks ago. He was more skilled with other instruments. But it what Gilbert was saying was true, then he'd have few problems on his hands. Hell, the piano probably belonged to the Austrian in the first place.

"Fine. The Princess can play in here."

"Roderich."

"I'm sorry?"

"His name is Roderich," Gilbert said the name with such fondness. His affection for the young Austrian musician was hard to miss. He had no idea what happened between them, but he was a similarity with himself... He had gained that same fondness for a certain man.

"You care about him, don't you? And it might be more than you should..."

Gilbert made a move to protest, but instead, he nodded.

"I understand... I think. I'm still trying to work things out in my head," Antonio said. "Bring him here tomorrow, and he can play where no prying eyes but my own will see."

Gilbert looked confused, but he nodded. "Thanks, Toni." He left shortly after.

With that, Antonio pulled off his boots, leaned back in his chair, kicked feet up onto his desk, and promptly fell asleep.

He had only slept for an hour or two. He could tell by the height of the sun in the sky. It was about noon. His headache had all but disappeared, and he was grateful of that. He wasn't sure if he could deal with a headache for the rest of the day. Antonio slowly pulled himself to his feet. He loved the feeling of bare wood under his feet. He felt at home that way. He felt younger, like a child. It had been so long since he'd felt like that... Like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. He felt light and free.

He left his cabin and walked out onto the deck. The area around him was immaculate. From his immediate view, he could first see that any dirt and grime had been scrubbed from the floors. Walking upon them with bare toes wouldn't leave his feet black by the end of the day. He also noticed that a few members of his crew were painting the banisters with a brilliant red color and coating them with a glossy varnish. He had not seen such color on his ship since her early days. She needed the love, and his crew was making it happen. He wondered who had convinced them?

And the figurehead of his beloved _Wandering Anna Maria_. She had been sanded down of any of her old colorings. The youngest Italian, Feliciano, had already started coating her with fresh paint. He had a hanging scaffolding just below the figurehead to keep him stable. Antonio wouldn't have been surprised if Ludwig was the one who had crafted the rig in order to keep the boy safe. Beside him, Feliciano had an assortment of paint and brushes. Currently, he was working on _Anna Maria's_ dark hair, a dark brown color. Antonio climbed down towards the Italian slowly. He was careful not to shake the entire rigging as well as topple any of the jars of paint beside the kid. He sat down slowly, his gaze falling upon the boy.

"Buongiorno!" Feliciano said happily. He didn't look away from his work. He was focused and concentrated.

"Hola," Antonio said. "She looked beautiful."

"Thank you! I've been working all morning with Lovino! Although he hasn't done all that much. But he helped sand and he refused to let me touch the eyes. I don't know why, but I don't mind. They look pretty. I know he loves painting, and so do I. So I can't complain."

Antonio allowed a vague smile to brush up onto his lips. Lovino had been working on his beloved ship., too. He had been painting _Anna Maria_. The harsh elements of the sea had not been kind to her. He was glad a couple of skilled artists had been working on her and loving her. She needed the care. She needed the dedication. He allowed his gaze to wander over her in all of her beauty. Yes, she had been sanded of all of her former paint and left bare. So far, only her skin had been fully fleshed out. Her hair had been started. And then Antonio made contact with her eyes. They were what intrigued him most. They were so familiar. Somehow he recognized them. Something nagged at the back of his mind... Who did they belong to?

And then it hit him like a sledgehammer to his gut. I was a somber, depressing thought. Somehow, Lovino, like the fantastic artist that he was, had captured his sister's eyes. He captured them and all of their former glory in the strokes of his brush.

The Captain closed his eyes and sighed.

"You two have done a marvelous job. I can't wait to see the finished work that you two produce," he said with a certain fondness to his voice.

"Thank you!" Feliciano said, a large smile spreading across his lips.

"Do you know where your brother is? I'd like to compliment him on his work."

"Not really sure. It's usually best to follow your nose when you're looking for him."

"Why is that?" Antonio asked, raising an amused brow.

"Good smells always seem to follow him," Feliciano said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Antonio nodded vaguely and stood from where he had been sitting. "Thank you for painting her. She needed the love and care."

Feliciano beamed, that same large smile dazzling his face. "It's not a problem. I needed something to do. Besides, the weather here is so beautiful! Although I think it might storm in the next few days..." he trailed off. "I think Ludwig over there on the _Lili Marlene_ is going to have a heart attack just watching me out over the water like this."

Antonio's jaw dropped as he looked over at Gilbert's ship which was anchored not far off from his own. Ludwig was pacing the helm, his blue eyes hardly leaving the Italian artist. Ludwig was definitely worried, and the worst part was that Feliciano was fully aware. And he didn't seem to care. "Yes, Feliciano, I'm sure he is. Don't make the poor man worry himself to death. He's already got enough on his plate as acting like an older brother to Gilbert when he is, in fact, younger."

"Believe me, I won't. I like having him around. He's so nice and sweet and perfect..." the boy trailed. Yes. There was something brewing between the two of them. "Believe it or not, I can handle myself. He just thinks that I can't. I'm actually quite capable. I think he just feels better thinking he can always protect me. I think he needs me to rely on him if that makes any sense. But if it came to it, and we were attacked, I'd be perfectly fine."

Somehow, Antonio doubted that. The boy looked too small and frail as if he couldn't even properly hold a sword. But then again, Antonio had also learned that looks could be deceiving. He would not underestimate the boy.

"Take care, Feliciano. Be careful out here," he said, climbing back up onto the banister.

"I will!"

Feliciano was left to paint and Antonio to wonder where Lovino had gotten off to. He had seen him go up the gangplank just before Francis and Gilbert, but that was the last he'd seen of him. He had disappeared into the maze that was the _Wandering Anna Maria_. Feliciano had told him to follow his nose, but he wasn't sure how he was supposed to go about that. He could only smell the briny air of the sea and nothing more.

And then it hit him. It was a wonderful, succulent, mouthwatering aroma. He found it to be one of the best scents he had smelt in a long time. Add he been around a bunch of men who preferred not to bathe for the last few years. The scent was something familiar, too. It reminded him of home, of Spain. And he was not the only one who had noticed the amazing scent, either. Heads were turning on the ship gradually, and they all turned towards the galley. What was his cook creating? The man was never a creative genius. He had only made simple dishes before. And nothing that had smelt this good. But there was only one food that he could connect to this scent, and it was tomatoes. The cook was using _his_ damned tomatoes! He was hoping to get at least one fresh one before they were cooked up and devoured by his ungrateful crew.

The Captain started towards the galley, his bare feet padding silently on the wooden floors. He walked down the stairs and stepped into the galley. It was first hit with the amazing scent of cooking food. He smiled vaguely and looked around only to notice a knife flying in his direction. He ducked quickly to avoid the blade. He heard it lodge itself in the wood of the wall. He looked up at it and then to the thrower.

"Out of my fucking kitchen!" Lovino yelled as he walked over and pulled the knife from the wood of the door frame. "I have already gotten rid of your shitty ass cook. Now get _your_ fucking ass out of here!"

Antonio stared at Lovino, then the hole in the doorframe, and then the rest of the galley. Despite that new hole, this was the cleanest he had ever seen the place. Yes, there was a variety of knives and pots, and food out on the countertops, but those were all in use. The crusty, rusty pots and cutlery that had been building up gradually as time progressed had been removed. The counters had been scrubbed clean of grime. It was as if it was all brand new.

"What happened in here? What happened to the cook? Why did you kick him out?" Antonio asked.

"I had him help me clean this place out before removing him from the premises. I know you've eaten that bullshit he called food, and quite frankly, I don't want to eat it anymore. After walking in here, though I can see why it tastes like absolute fucking garbage. When was the last time this place was cleaned? You're so concerned about the fucking deck, but you don't even care about the cargo hold, which, might I add, is a complete pigsty, and the galley where your god damned meals are prepared. You were a _physician_. You should know how fucking unhealthy that shit is! I don't know how you at the crap! _Food_ supposed to be made with love, care, and fucking _fresh ingredients_. Not a fucking _rotten potato_ and a _half-eaten carrot_! That shit was not food! It was fucking death in a pot. I don't know how you and your crew didn't _die_ eating that toxic sludge. And keep that stupid Wine Bastard out of here. He's convinced he's a better fucking chef than I am, but I don't trust him. He looks like he hasn't ever set foot in a kitchen. And don't get me started on his face! When was the last time that bastard shaved? God. And he wants to add mother fucking wine to everything. French wine is fucking shit wine. It's not even some of the decent shit my grandfather makes. And you know what? I'm fucking sick of wine. After the night I had last night, I just want that shit to stay the fuck away from me. I could use some good food and one less annoying Spaniard in my kitchen. So get the fuck out of here. Better yet, stay. You're the Captain of this ship. It belongs to you. Honestly, I don't give a fuck who you are. But this is _my cooking_. That means I can serve you last. I'll be sure to avoid giving you any of the good shit like tomatoes. Otherwise, I suggest you fucking leave," Lovino snapped, his arms crossing over his chest.

Antonio blinked a few times, his expression unreadable. He simply stared at the boy for a moment before speaking. "I just wanted to tell you it smelled good," he said.

"You smell good, too. So what? I don't give a fuck. You're the fifteenth person to come down here in the last hour just to tell me that, and quite frankly, I don't give a fuck about that, either. Get out."

"Your brother told me your were painting earlier."

"Don't change the subject, bastard," Lovino snapped, his face flushing a deep shade of scarlet. "It was only a little bit. Feliciano is the painter in the family. He's done the majority of the work."

"Those eyes... They remind of someone..."

"Oh. I wonder who," Lovino said sarcastically.

"They remind me of my sister's eyes," Antonio whispered.

Lovino stilled. His expression went from sarcastic and embarrassed to unreadable. He stared at Antonio, and the Spaniard stared back awkwardly.

"I painted them to look like yours. This _is_ your ship. It should have a bit of you in them," Lovino said, his brows furrowed. "You must have had the same eyes."

"We did..." Antonio said quietly. "Our mother used to tell us that all the time. I doubt she can even look me in the eye anymore, especially after all I've done."

They stood there in silence for a long while before Lovino stared at him with his arms crossed over his chest once more. "You come into my kitchen and get all depressing. Get the fuck out."

Antonio pouted slightly. "But... Lovi..." he said.

The Italian picked up another knife and chucked it at Antonio, a scowl spreading across in features in a matter of milliseconds. The knife whizzed past the Spaniard's head and lodged itself in the same place as before. "Don't fucking call me that."

Antonio offered a toothy smile and picked up a small tomato from the counter. He took a small bite and chewed it slowly before responding. "But it's a cute nickname, no?"

"No, Tomato Bastard, it's fucking not."

" _Tomato Bastard?_ Such an odd man, Lovi."

"Bastard, don't fucking call me that," he snapped, picking up a third knife from the counter. He was ready to throw.

Antonio smiled and held his hands up in surrender. "I yield. I yield. But please. Tell me what you are making?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I don't know what it's called."

"It smells amazing... It reminds me of home."

"Well, you're Spanish, aren't you? It should remind you of at least Spain."

"Why is that?"

"Because it's Spanish food."

"You know how to make it?" Antonio asked, his brows rising. He took another bite of his tomato. God, it was so good...

Lovino nodded.

"Why is it that you know?"

"My father was Spanish and my mother Italian. He taught me how to cook some of these things when I'd stay with him for a few days out of the summer. That's why Feliciano and I look nothing alike. He and I have different fathers. My mother just never married mine... He was Spanish and out of culture. It's probably why Feliciano was always the favourite."

"You do look alike, you know. Your hair and eyes are just a bit darker."

"Fuck off."

Antonio smiled again. "Well, it smells amazing."

And, God, did it taste good, too. About an hour later, Lovino finished cooking. Antonio watched the entire time. He hadn't left, and Lovino hadn't shirked him any of the tomatoes, either. Antonio had never realized that food could taste so good. He'd been eating the cook's sludge for years. Lovino's cooking was amazing. It reminded him of home, of Spain, of his mother and his sister. This, whatever it was, was gourmet. The boy's cooking created one more thing that Antonio loved about him. He loved that blush that spread on his cheeks whenever he was nervous. He loved his curl that, despite all odds, never seemed to lie flat. He loved those scowls that hid all of his true emotions. And, God, did love his cooking. He was so reluctant for Lovino to leave...

Wait. When did it go from caring about him to loving some of the littlest details about him? Antonio wrinkled his nose at the thought before taking another bite of his food.

No. He didn't love. It was impossible. He hadn't loved in such a long time. He wouldn't hadn't even fallen in love with his beautiful first mate despite the number of nights they'd spent together. He had not fallen in love with her. He couldn't be in love now, with Lovino for that matter. He was leaving so soon... Fate was a cruel mistress, but she couldn't do something like that to him. She couldn't allow him to love his charge. But Fate was heartless, and She did as She wished. If She wanted Antonio to find love and lose it, then She would.

Antonio realized in that moment that he was falling for that guarded little Italian. He was falling in love with Lovino.

And Fate was bound to tear them apart.

 **A/N/: By the way, it's 2p!Canada. Just saying.**

 **Character list so far:**

 **Antonio: Spain**

 **Lovino: Romano/South Italy**

 **Feliciano: Italy**

 **Ludwig: Germany**

 **Bella: Belgium**

 **Francis: France**

 **Gilbert: Prussia**

 **Roderich: Austria**

 **Mathieu: 2p! Canada**

 **Willem: Netherlands**

 **Allistor: Scotland**

 **Arthur: England**

 **Alfred: America**

 **Augustus Vargas: Ancient Rome**

 **There are a few extra characters that have been introduced, but I refuse to introduce their names and their countries until later on. So yeah.**

 **I hope you liked the relatively happy chapters. It's probably going to go downhill from there... Probably. This fanfiction isn't going to be terribly long. Sorry, Ocho.**

 **~Gravey**


	7. Chapter 7

Antonio

They had been in Tortuga for far too long. Yes, only the length of one full day had passed, but that was still far too long for the restless Captain. He wanted to be out of this crowded bay. He wanted to be out on the water with the wind in his face. He could go into town, but then he risked running into old friends. He knew that any of his old friends would want to drag him into a tavern for a drink. He didn't want that in his life. He wanted to be far away from people and land and the alcohol that they inevitably brought. If he drank, he'd turn into an ass again. He couldn't afford that, especially when Lovino didn't want him around in the first place.

He had been trying so hard to please the boy, too. He complimented him. He was kind. He tried everything.

It had been a sudden decision to dump the hard liquors on the ship into the bay the night previous. It had been one that he had while laying in bed. It was another restless sleep, one that he found himself in more and more often.

He layed in his bed, staring at the ceiling. The Wandering Anna Maria rocked gently on the waves of the bay of Tortuga. So many thoughts raced through his mind. They nagged at him constantly. They never left him be. Fate had been a cruel mistress indeed. She had given him a cursed life. Yes, he was falling in love. No, the man that he'd fall for would not return his feelings. Not now, and not ever. He had made that clear with the number of times he had told him to 'fuck off'. Lovino would never love him back... He could never love someone like Antonio. He was a pirate. He was a terrible, cruel man... He just wanted to drawn out his sorrows. He wanted to drink away his problems.

And that is when he came to the realization that he needed to change. He had to get rid of it. He had to get rid of it all, all of the alcohol, or it'd never stop. He'd never stop.

Antonio lifted himself from his bed quickly and grabbed a book of matches from his bedside table. He lit the lantern that sat beside them. This was his beacon, his light in the darkness of the night. He threw on a pair of pants and a shirt, his bare feet padding lightly against the wood of the floor as he walked. He set the lantern down on his desk before he began to tear apart his cabin. He turned out every drawer and every cabinet. He had to find it all, every last bottle of alcohol. He couldn't have it around him. Not even a drop. No. It turned him into the worst kind of person. He became angry. He was prone to hurting people. It had to go. He dug through his entire cabin. He didn't care if he was making far too much noise in the middle of the night. He didn't care. Hell, he could wake up the entire crew and not given a single fuck. He wanted it gone. He wanted it all gone. He needed it gone. If it was there, he be tempted. That was the last thing he needed, that temptation.

After he found every last bottle - there were only a few - he stormed into the galley. He turned out the drawers and cabinets just as he did his own cabinet. Lovino would kill him, but he could deal with the boy's wrath later. For now, this was more important. He took everything that wasn't for cooking. All of the rum, all of the whiskey. Anything that he liked to drink, aside from the wine. When he drank a little bit of wine, he had the tendency to get sentimental. He enjoyed that when he drank with Francis and Gilbert, but if he got too drunk... No. He would never do that again. He grabbed all of the hard liquors and stacked it into an empty crate. He left the crate on the main deck and then went to the cargo hold. He staggered around in the darkness; his lantern only glowed so bright. By the faint glow of the device, he found whatever he could in the mess. He wasn't going to find it all, no, but he could find it later. He'd have someone clean out that mess... He might even do it himself just to find the staggered remnants of alcohol. He took everything that he could find. He shoved bottles under his arms and in the waistband of his pants to carry and went back to the main deck. He brought everything to the helm of the ship.

One by one he uncorked the bottles and drained the over the side of the ship. He emptied them of their contents and tossed their empty carcasses down by his feet. Some of them shattered into thousands of pieces, but he didn't care. His breath came out fast and his shoulders heaved. It was too much. It had to go. This was a problem he had, drinking, and the only solution was to get rid of it. He had to. He didn't realized his face was stained with tears. No. He simply pressed on. When he grew weary of dumping their contents into the salty bay, he simply cracked them open over the banister. It had to go. It all had to go. He didn't care if he left little dents and nicks. They could be repaired so easily. He, on the other hand, could not be without some sort of intervention. This was it. It had to go, it all had to go... The temptation had to leave his life or he'd be destroyed.

He didn't realized there were scratches crisscrossing his cheeks. He didn't realize he had sliced open his palm. He didn't realize he was out of bottles until after the last one was hauled into the ocean with one mighty throw and he reached to grab another. No. He was too numb to notice even the world around him. He was too numb and ready for it all to end. Maybe he wouldn't be fearsome any longer. Maybe he wouldn't command his crew with an iron fist. Maybe he'd be seen as average. He didn't care. The short time he'd spent with Lovino had been some of the best of his life. He just wanted him to know that, to return the love he felt. No one had looked past his exterior before to take a look at what he held deep down within. No one but this stubborn little Italian. He had been the only one to see past his drunken anger. He wanted desperately to let him in. he wanted desperately for Lovino to return some of his affection... He had to earn and prove that he was worthy of his trust. This was the first step.

Antonio sank to his knees, his breath coming heaving and tears stinging his eyes and the cuts on his cheeks. He held his bleeding hand as it throbbed and simply sat there. He eventually lost track of time. He didn't know how was out there, sitting in that pile of glass and alcohol and sweat and blood. It could have been hours. It could have been only a few minutes. He'd lost track after the first few bottles were thrown. The next thing he knew was the presence of another person at his side. Lovino took Antonio's uninjured hand and gingerly pulled the man to his feet. The boy led him to his cabin and sat him down on his bed.

Lovino busied himself with setting up a bath for Antonio. The Spaniard watched quietly, his hands clenched in his lap. It didn't take long for Lovino to fill the small tub Antonio had in his cabin. He noticed that he had started the process long before he came and retrieved Antonio. When did Lovino realize that Antonio was out there? How much of his breakdown had the boy seen? Antonio did not ask because he feared the answer.

Lovino helped him out of his soiled clothes and into the bath. The Italian's face was a crimson color, that much Antonio could see in the dim light. He averted his gaze away from Antonio and gave him just a shred of privacy. He stepped into the small tub. The warm water burned at all of the little scratches that Antonio didn't realize he'd had. He didn't care, though. It was a pain he needed. He needed to understand what this addiction did to him.

A pitcher of water was poured over his head, leaving his thick curls plastered to his head. He sat there for a moment, allowing the water to drip down his face. He took a deep breath before opening his eyes. He looked up at Lovino with dripping lashes. The boy stood over him holding that very pitcher that had dumped the steaming liquid on him. He said nothing and simply stared at that beautiful man. His left hand rested on his popped left hip. His lips were pursed into a thin line. His brows were furrowed down over confused, amber eyes. Lovino shook his head and turned away. Neither man said a word as Lovino helped clean Antonio up. God, the Spaniard felt so helpless. He was such a mess. He couldn't even clean himself of the stench of alcohol on his own...

Lovino never judged him. He never said a word. He simply washed Antonio's hair for him as if he were a child.

Once he was clean of any lingering alcohol on his skin, Antonio stood and dried off. He was so numb, but Lovino was there to guide him. He put on a pair of pants and that was it. The Italian then went to the cabinet and pulled out a few fabric bandages patch Antonio's wounds. It was then he finally spoke.

"Dumb bastard..." he said. "You're so careless. You didn't a bottle of with which to clean your wounds. Stupid fucking Tomato Bastard." He slammed what he had grabbed down on Antonio's desk. "If you get an infection, I can't save your life. Stupid fucking bastard..."

Antonio remained silent through the boy's grumblings. He had no right to speak right now. After the show he had just put on, he wouldn't be surprised if Lovino would ever look at him the same. He was a disgrace... He was a mess. He waited until he fell silent to say even a word.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome..." he said lowly, averting his gaze away from Antonio. "Just don't fucking let it happen again."

"I won't Lovi..." he said.

"Don't fucking call me that. I told you this before..."

"Lo siento, Lovino."

Lovino held out his hand and took Antonio's into his own. It was then that Antonio realized that Lovino had calloused fingers. He'd never felt them before this. They were soft with a slight roughness to them. It was probably from the many years he'd been living on the streets.

"It's going to need stitches," Antonio said softly.

Lovino nodded and picked up a needle and thread from the table. He'd brought it with him from the cabinet along with the other supplies. Antonio should have been worried, but he wasn't. He trusted Lovino. He was sure that the boy would do a better job on this than any member of his crew could, Bella excluded. Lovino slowly stitched together the large gash across Antonio's palm. The Spaniard winced a few times, but that was all. He didn't utter a word or hiss in pain. He deserved this. Once he was done, the boy slowly wrapped the fabric around Antonio's hand, his eyes focused on his work. Antonio didn't interrupt this with his words either. Working in the medical field had drilled that concentration into him. He knew better than to disturb Lovino while he was trying to be careful and accurate.

"What were you even doing? What was the point of all of that?"

"I need to get rid of it all," Antonio said lamely.

"In the middle of the fucking night? You woke me up, first of all, which is something you already do too often. And what about the crew? What are they supposed to do without alcohol? They won't work for you without it. And you should know that. These are dirty, smelly men who want a drink at the end of a stressful day."

"It just had to go... It turns me into someone I don't want to be..."

"And you without it are an entirely different person," Lovino said. "The crew woke up, and they were staring but I got them back downstairs... They didn't need to see you like that."

"Thank you."

Lovino finished wrapping Antonio's hand and held it in his for a moment. That moment last a lot longer than Antonio expected. He stared at Lovino for a long while, their eyes connected. Amber and emerald, locked together. Antonio could see all of the emotion swirling within those beautiful eyes. God, Antonio just wished Lovino would return the love he felt.

The boy must have realized they were staring at eachother because he immediately dropped Antonio's hand and flushed scarlet. Oh, how Antonio adored that flush. He stared at him with love-stricken eyes. Lovino didn't seem to like that flush or even the expression on Antonio's features. He quickly gathered his things and left Antonio's cabin, his facial expressions unreadable. What had Antonio done? Had he upset the boy? He had no idea... He knew, however, that Lovino would never love him.

After the show he put on the night previous, he couldn't face Lovino, not just yet. He needed to give the poor boy some space. He had to bother someone else to relieve his boredom. Maybe Francis would be available...

Antonio walked across the deck towards the crew's shared space. Francis had been staying there, 'culturing' them. Those poor men... Culturing meant lots of French wine and stories about the blooming friendship of the Bad Touch Trio. Those stories combined with French wine would mess with his men's heads... He just hoped they'd be able to sail that afternoon.

When he came downstairs, he found that Francis was nowhere near the crew. No, he was, in fact, dressing himself up with nice clothes and a bit of effort. Antonio approached him, allowing an easy smile to slip onto his features.

"Where are you going, my friend? You look like you are going to one of those fancy military dinners," Antonio stated, his brow rising quizzically.

"I'm going out to dinner with Mathieu! We are going on a date! It will be so romantic, 'Tonio. We shall have a wonderful time!" Francis exclaimed, turning towards the Spaniard.

"That's fantastic Francis, but where around here will you find somewhere nice?"

"I'm not quite sure, but we shall figure it out," the Frenchman said. He was certainly beaming. "Why have you come to visit me, Antony?"

"I was looking for a way to bide my time..." Antonio trailed.

"I'm terribly sorry, my friend! Maybe tomorrow before we return to Le Bateau de la Rose, oui? You, Gilbert, and I. We can tell stories of our past, take some time to relax."

"Of course," he said, allowing a faint smile to form on his lips. Yes, he was disappointed, but it was nothing major. His friend had other obligations. "That sounds perfect."

Antonio nodded towards his friend and started back up the stairs.

"Antonio?" Francis asked.

"Sí?"

"Go to the cargo hold. Lovino is down there, and I believe he could use a hand cleaning and organizing your mess down there."

Antonio nodded. "Maybe I will."

The Spaniard walked up the stairs towards the main deck. He couldn't go to Lovino. Not yet. He needed to leave the boy alone. He had done something to upset him the night previous. No. He had to find Gilbert. The Prussian would distract him enough for the rest of the day. Their schemes and antics could usually last them a few hours. That was enough. He only needed to last until that afternoon.

He walked towards the gangplank that had been set up between the Wandering Anna Maria and the Lili Marlene and walked across at a careful, slow pace. His gaze immediately fixed on the towering blond pacing the deck across the way.

"Ludwig!" Antonio called, a happy expression lighting his face.

"Antonio," Ludwig said with a curt nod.

"Why are you pacing?"

Ludwig didn't respond. He blue gaze was turned away from Antonio. He was focused on something on the Wandering Anna Maria. The Spaniard followed his gaze to the figurehead of his ship. Feliciano sat on the scaffold just below her, applying the finishing touches to the beautiful maiden. He was focused, on his painting. He was ignoring the occasional gusts of wind that shook his perch. He didn't seem scared. He was actually rather calm. And that seemed to bother Ludwig even more.

"Go sit with him. You are obviously anxious. You'll wear holes in the floor if you keep pacing like that, and I'm sure that's the last thing your brother wants."

"I can't just leave the ship alone..." he muttered.

"You're a quick walk away, Ludwig. You're fine. Go sit with him. Give yourself some peace at mind."

"He is doing it on purpose, sitting so dangerously." It almost sounded as if Ludwig was whining. He was unused to such a sound coming from the man. Usually he was the pinnacle of composure. He was disheveled by the little Italian Feliciano. His hair was unkempt and his jaw was tight. His fingers were clenched tightly until his knuckles were white. No, he was far too unnerved by the boy.

"I know he is. Please, just go sit with him. It will make you feel a hell of a lot better, Ludwig," Antonio said, placing a hand on the taller male's shoulder.

The blond nodded, his gaze wandering off towards Feliciano once more.

"I do have one question, though. Have you seen your brother?"

Ludwig shook his head. "No, I haven't. Last I saw of him, he was going to find you for some reason." He didn't look at Antonio when he spoke.

"When I see you next, I expect you to be with that boy, Ludwig. The closer you are, the less anxiety you will feel," he said. "Doctor's orders."

Antonio turned and left the Lili Marlene. He walked across the gangplank to the Wandering Anna Maria. If Gilbert was anywhere on his ship, it'd be where his beloved Austrian Princess was. And Roderich was playing the piano in Antonio's cabin. Antonio had let him in there early that morning, and he hadn't left since. If Gilbert couldn't find his friend, he'd surely seek out the next best thing, which was Francis. The Frenchman had surely turned him away. That only left one place for Gilbert to go. Antonio in turn followed the sound of the music. As he drew closer to the source, it grew louder and louder. It was the melodic thunder of the piano. Roderich certainly did know how to play. It was no wonder that the British King wanted him for his own. He had talent. He was gifted.

Antonio opened the door to his cabin and poked his head inside. He first spotted Roderich behind the piano, just as he suspected. He seemed to completely zone out on the world. He was focused on the ivory keys in front of him. He stroked each one with his fingertips in such a loving manner as he played. His wire-framed glasses sat precariously on the end of his nose as he looked down at the keys occasionally. He didn't have sheet music in front of him. He seemed to play by memory. Still, he was focused. His violet gaze was intense. There was passion in his playing, passion in what he did. Antonio remember the days when he had that same passion. Oh, how he missed them...

He next spotted Gilbert perched upon his desk. Like Roderich, he seemed to be zoned out on the world. His sole focus, however, was not the piano in front of him. It was the musician playing the complex instrument. The way Gilbert stared at Roderich with his scarlet gaze was like nothing Antonio had seen. He was sure he saw tears glistening on his lower lids. He had such adoration in his expression and his features. He was calm and collected aside from that single trail of salt water that fell down his cheek. Unlike the many times he'd seen his obnoxious friend in the past, now he was at peace. He had nothing to worry about. He was, like Francis would claim, in love. This was love as true and pure as it came. His friend, the one he thought was a sure homophobe, had, in fact, fallen for an Austrian prince. Gilbert had finally found the love of his life.

Neither had noticed his presence quite yet, and he would keep it that way. Antonio could not ruin such a moment between them. He could always find something else to occupy his time for the rest of the afternoon.

He just hoped they stayed far away from his bed.

Slowly he shut the door to his cabin with a soft click! His last option was his first mate, Bell. He had not seen her much that day. Whenever they were in port, she had the tendency to go off and do her own thing. She needed some time away after spending weeks at a time with a group of rowdy men. He hoped that she'd be hind in her room, though. He walked down the hall towards Bella's cabin. It was in the same hall as his, just on the right side. He stopped in front of the door, knocked once, and opened it. What he saw was surprising. Bella stood off to the side of the room, staring at a large mirror she had hung on the wall. She was combing her fingers through his shoulder-length blonde hair and pinning it back with decorative clips. That in itself was quite unlike her. Usually, she left her hair pinned back by nothing more than a band of fabric. No, this was a major change in her appearance. She looked more elegant and regal. And that wasn't even the entirety of her change in appearance. She had also given her wardrobe a major overhaul. Instead of the pants and shirt she usually wore as a pirate, she was garbed in a long, elegant dress. It wasn't anything that he had seen her in in years. The last time she had worn a dress in front of him was the day she was to be wed... Now, she looked absolutely stunning. Yes, at one time, he had to admit that he did care for her.

Antonio whistled lowly, a smile cracking onto his features. "Belladonna, it's been a long time since I've seen you all dressed up. You look absolutely beautiful."

The blonde woman turned towards him, a scowl forming on her features. "Don't call me Belladonna," she snapped, her ears turning a bright crimson due to anger. "It's Bella to you, and you know that perfectly well."

Antonio held up his hands in mock surrender. Her expression softened.

"But thank you."

"Where did you find the dress? I don't recall you leaving to go shopping over the last few days," he asked, leaning casually against the wall beside the door and took in her appearance completely. She wore a beautifully simple dress. The bodice was a blouse made up of white fabric. The shirtsleeves went to her elbows and puffed out slightly. She had a navy corset and two layers of skirts. Navy made up the top layer and lighter shade of blue fabric made up bottom. Yes, it was simple, but she looked absolutely stunning.

"Where are you going all dressed up? You've not worn a dress in years."

"I'm going out," was all she said.

"With whom?" he asked. Yes, Bella had always gone out to do her own thing. Yes, she had gone out in the ports they visited before, but she had never gotten that dolled up. Not once since the time she had been sailing under him had she worn a dress.

"A man that I met in town, not that it concerns you."

A man. She was getting all dressed up for a man. Antonio feigned hurt. "You never got all dressed up for me," he said with a pout.

"That's because my clothes came off far too easily to even make some vain attempt at looking nice," she said with a shrug, looking back to the mirror. She picked up a bit of makeup and started to apply it to her already beautiful features. She didn't need it. She never had. Why she decided to use it now was beyond him. "Besides, I know you've got your eyes elsewhere, Antonio. You were never good at feigning coy, either, so don't even try it. You know you have places you'd rather be, and that place is at the lowest reach of this ship with a certain grumpy little man."

Antonio decided he was going to ignore her comment. He didn't want to think about the aforementioned Italian. He was still confused as to how he had pissed him off the night previous. He didn't want to think of it, lest he overthink what had happened. "What is your brother going to say about this?" he asked.

"This isn't any of his concern, either. He's far too worried about me. I may have had some... mishaps as a young woman, but I can hold my own. I'm more than capable. We aren't going to tell my brother," she said with a dangerous smile that rivaled none.

At that moment, a certain someone waltzed on by. "'Tonio, my friend, you don't have a-" Francis paused. "We aren't going to tell your brother what?"

There was a long silence between the three of them. Francis was the one who broke it with more questions.

"Bella, where did you get a dress, my love?" Francis asked. "No, don't answer that. Answer this. Why are you wearing a dress?"

"Franny," she said, shooting daggers in Antonio's direction. "Don't you get cross with me... This isn't any of your business."

And that is when he took his leave. Yes. This was something they could sort out on their own. It was not his place to interfere.

Antonio shut the door behind him as he left. He walked out onto the main deck of the ship, allowing the sunshine to warm his tanned skin. He had nothing to occupy his time. His well options had run dry. He thought that in his surplus of friends he'd at least find one thing to do. No. They all had other obligations that did not involve him. He would be fine. He could survive. He wasn't that reliant on other. He could find something. Hell, he could follow everyone's advice and just go down below... Even if Lovino was mad at him, it was his only option. He had done something to upset him, and he didn't know what exactly that something was. That on its own was dangerous, but it was a chance he would have to take.

Slowly and reluctantly, Antonio started down the stairs to the cargo hold. He first noticed the glow coming from down below. Usually the cargo hold was shrouded in darkness. Now, however, it was full of light. Dotted around him were lanterns. It seemed as though Lovino had taken any lantern he could find and placed them around. He had taken the time to light up the place. They hung from the ceiling and sat on the boxes on the floor. The messy cargo hold now had a magical feel to it. Well, it wasn't so messy anymore. Antonio could tell that even though it was only around noon, quite a bit of work had already been done. Crates had been opened and their contents separated into neat piles. There was silver and chinaware in one pile, precious gems in the next, and weaponry in another. Lovino stood off in the corner, his back to the stairs. He was folding a variety of clothing articles. He hummed to himself and swayed his hips as he worked. He was in his own world. It was obvious that he thought he was alone. He hadn't heard Antonio come down the stairs. A mischievous smile crept onto the Spaniard's features. It was the sort of smile that showed he had many less than wise plans floating through his head. They were the sort of plans he would have carried out with Francis and Gilbert in their youth. Yes, he could have fun with this distracted Italian. Slowly and silently he danced around the piles on the floor. They were chaotically placed, but Antonio was sure Lovino had a method to the madness. With nothing to jangle and jostle to give him away, he managed to quietly appear behind Lovino. He raised his fingers towards the boy's waist, his teeth clamping down on his lips to muffle a laugh. Mercilessly, Antonio attacked. Yes, it was childish to tickle a grown man, but he couldn't help himself.

Immediately, he regretted his foolish actions.

Lovino shrieked and jumped. He then turned and picked up the nearest weapon. It was a gleaming cutlass. His amber eyes were wide as he held the sword straight out, its tip very nearly hitting Antonio. If the Spaniard had not jumped back, he surely would have been skewered.

Antonio saw a form of recognition in Lovino's eyes, and sure enough, a scowl appeared on his face moments later.

"What the fuck, Tomato Bastard? Since when is it okay to sneak the fuck up on me like that?" Lovino shouted after dropping the sword. His hands fell to his hips in a sassy sort of way.

The Captain paused and didn't say anything for a long moment. He then began to laugh. It was a hearty laugh, one that he had not felt for a long, long while. It was a deep, thick one that used come along after a long night of foolish stunts with Gilbert and Francis. It was one that reminded him of his younger years. It was something that had not escaped his lips in many, many years.

"The fuck are you laughing for, Bastard?"

Antonio shook his head, his arms weaving around his waist to hold his stomach. His amusement only grew stronger with Lovino's curses and retorts. The laughter made the muscles in his abdomen ache with protest, but he did not care. It needed to escape, all of the pent up emotions he felt. He wasn't necessarily laughing at Lovino... Well, he was, but he couldn't help it. It was just so amusing how he was quick to attack the moment he felt threatened even though he was as safe as physically possible in that given moment. It could be a mouse that startled him yet he was ready to strike sword blazing without a second to think his situation through. His reflexes were so quick. He was even ready to yell in an instant despite whom he stood in front of. He was so easy to piss off, especially when he was embarrassed, but his embarrassment was so cute. Oh, and how he relaxed when he laid eyes on the Spaniard... Antonio love it all. He loved everything that was Lovino, and that was the only reason the boy had gotten him to produce such a hearty, real, breathing laugh.

After a few long moments of laughter, Antonio managed to gain control. He wiped a few tears from the corners of his eyes and offered the Italian an apologetic smile. "Lo siento, Lovi."

"Damn straight, bastard... And don't fucking call me that..." he muttered as he went back to folding the heap of clothing in front of him. "Why the hell are you down here anyways?"

"Lo siento. I promise I will not call you that again," Antonio then shrugged his shoulders. "Everyone is off doing their own thing today, so I figured I'd join you, seeing as how I can't intrude because you are alone."

"You're intruding on my peace and quiet through solitude," Lovino snapped, his back to the Spaniard. He kept on folding, placing the folded garments into a crate beside him.

A mischievous smile once more snuck its way onto Antonio's tanned face. That grin never meant good news. "I could always go," he said, turning on his heel. He started back towards the stairs that led to the main deck. "If you do not want me around to help you, then i'd best get out of your way. You seem to be handling everything down here on your own."

"No, wait!" Lovino called. Antonio turned to face the Italian. His face was red and his gaze was averted towards the floor. It was as if those words had been produced without any prior thought to them. They probably had been. Lovino, however, was quick to correct his mistakes. "You can't go, you lazy fucking bastard. I'm not cleaning up your disgusting ass all on my own, dammit. So turn your perf- your Spanish ass around and get cleaning. I haven't even got through all of your shit. Those were just four or five crates worth. Get fucking moving."

"Yes, of course, Lovino," Antonio said, a triumphant smile rising on his lips.

And so they set to work. It truly baffled Antonio how much junk he had acquired over the years. Each raid brought in more gold. They brought in tradable goods. Weapons were acquired but never used. He bought things with his spoils of war, things that he didn't necessarily need. All of those things eventually ended up down in the cargo hold. And how Lovino had even managed to make a dent in the mess was beyond Antonio. How he had made any headway into organizing this pile of crap was beyond him, too. Lovino had piles set up all around the cargo hold. There seemed to be doubles of some, but Antonio quickly learned after a stern talking to that one pile was of the items that were usable and the other was of the garbage that needed to be thrown out or given. There was a measurable difference between the two piles, too. The pile of tossable goods was far larger than the one that held usable items. And Lovino would hardly let him argue on some of these items. The Italian held the command decision when it came to the final decision of the fate of a certain item. If there wasn't a good enough story behind a certain blade or article of clothing, it was tossed.

"What the fuck is this piece of shit?" Lovino asked, holding up a rather long weapon. He held it clumsily, staring at the bits of rust that had formed on it over the years. It looked awkward in his hands, as if he wasn't sure how to support the heavier end of the weapon. He looked at it with disregard. He obviously didn't much care for the old weapon.

Antonio, on the other hand, though otherwise. This weapon in particular was something that made Antonio's brow rise immediately. He hadn't laid eyes on this particular weapon in a long, long while. He had thought it been lost many years previously after a raid where he'd traded it in for a rather fancy blade. When he had searched for it after the aforementioned fancy blade broke, he couldn't find it. The cargo hold hadn't been nearly as messy then as it was now, but he still could not find it. Lovino, however, managed to find it. And he held it so carelessly that Antonio's heart nearly broke.

"That piece of shit is my weapon of choice," Antonio said, taking hold of the long apparatus. The weight felt so familiar in his hands.

His long handled, two-handed, double-edged battle axe. The weapon had certainly seen better days. It was a little rusty. The handle could use a bit of sanding. It definitely needed to be sharpened before he went into battle with it, but it would survive. He weighed it in his hands and took a few soft practice swings. It felt the same in his hands as it had many years before. Oh, how he had missed this weapon. How he could have ever traded it in for a shitily made sword was beyond him. He ran his fingers over the carving in the metal, and the little knicks that had been made over the years. Yes, he would fight with it once more. The days of petty swordplay were over. His arm was complete again.

"Okay, it can go. You don't need it," Lovino snapped, snatching the axe from Antonio's loving grasp.

The Spaniard's eyes looked up to Lovino, wide and full of horror. "What? No! I've honestly been looking for this for years!" he cried, reaching for the axe.

Lovino snorted and held the weapon out of Antonio's reach. The Spaniard could have sworn he saw what he thought was a hint of jealousy in the Italian's eyes. "Please?"

"No."

"Please, I'll do anything!"

"Fine. I'll give it back to you on one condition. No, actually three," Lovino said, letting his hand fall back to his hip in that same sassy way as before.

"What is it? Anything."

"Teach me how to fight with a sword. And then let me participate on your next raid. The third I'll tell you later on," he said. His words were slow and calculated. His gaze was just the same. It was as if he was trying to read Antonio's reaction.

The Captain was conflicted. He wasn't sure how to feel. The first condition was doable. He could easily teach Lovino how to use a sword. He already had the basics down. He just needed to improve the skills that were already present. The second, however, he wasn't so sure about. Lovino was precious to him. He was no longer just a sum of money. He was so much more than that. Antonio's feelings may have been confused and muddled, but he could clearly tell that he had fallen in love with the Italian. Inserting him into a situation that was potentially fatal was something he could not do easily, not without good reason and a mind that was half sane. Then again, he was never sane to begin with.

"Why do you want to join me on a raid?"

Lovino shrugged. "Someone has to make sure you don't killed, and that someone can't always be Bella. She's got better shit to do. I figured that someone could be me," he stated, letting his eyes wander to the floor yet again. "I mean, you're the only thing keeping that perverted ass crew away from me, so I have to make sure you stay alive."

So Lovino wanted to protect him. He hadn't said the exact words, but it was obvious that the Italian did not want him dead. Antonio thought it was cute. And he couldn't deny him the privilege of fighting beside him.

"So you've decided to be my cabin boy, then," Antonio said with a snarky grin.

Lovino wrinkled his nose. "I guess you can say that."

"Marvelous," the Captain said, clapping his hands together. "Yes, agreed."

Begrudgingly, Lovino handed over the axe. Antonio took it and placed it over in the corner where he knew he wouldn't lose it again.

They continued to sort through the mess for a while longer. Antonio allowed himself to hum a few soft tunes to himself. Lovino seemed to stay far away from him for that very reason. They stayed that way for a long while. They each did their own thing, attending to the mess that resided in the depths of the Wandering Anna Maria. It wasn't until Lovino found another interesting object that the pair spoke.

"Who is this in this painting?" Lovino asked, catching Antonio's attention.

"If it's an incriminating painting, believe me, I did not mean for that to happen. Francis got me far too drunk on far too much wine!" Antonio called over, a smile forming on his lips. Oh, the adventures he'd had in his youth. He wouldn't be surprised if he still had some of those lying around, the paintings that they had gotten done.

The Captain turned to face the boy and walked over to him. He sat on his heels, hunched over a painting that was in his hands. Antonio walked closer to him and looked over his shoulder. Her recognized the girl in the painting almost immediately.

"Someone I knew many years ago," he said softly, the smile dropping from his lips. Antonio took the the small portrait into his hand.

It was his beloved sister. She was six years old when she posed for that painting. It was seven years before her death. She was such a beautiful child. She had tanned skin just like Antonio's own. Her eyes were that same emerald green. Her hair was a shade or two lighter than his, but she had been out in the sun more often. He had been studying in the libraries of Spain. He had been indoors, attempting to help the local physician with whatever he could. He regretted the days he told her he could not play with him. She saw so much more sun than he, and as the days went by, he felt so much remorse. She was such a beautiful child... Antonio missed her dearly. He could feel the tears welling behind his eyes. He dashed them away with the back of his hand before they could betray him and fall down his cheek.

He took the painting with him and took to the stairs before Lovino could see him cry. He had already seen enough of that the night before when he had so carelessly woken him. He didn't need to be troubled with Antonio's emotions yet again.

The Captain stole away to his cabin, once again hiding in his lonesome. He had lost his sister so many years ago, and it still hurt him. He couldn't bear to think of the pain he'd endure the moment he lost Lovino if he for a second allowed himself to love him.

The Wandering Anna Maria had cast off before the sun set. The crew had returned late in the afternoon, sober enough to make the journey. They weren't ready to leave Tortuga just yet, but the Captain was eager to go. He needed to feel the rush of the wind. He needed to be far away from the temptation of alcohol that being at port would surely bring. He had to escape, and escape he did. Antonio had commanded until they were safely out of the crowded port, his mind set and his gaze determined.

They were free on the open sea now. The skies were a bit overcast, but the waters were calm enough to sail on. If he thought otherwise, he would have postponed their departure. Even he was not mad enough to sail on stormy, raging seas. He had seen many great pirates and ships fall for that very reason. He wasn't going to join them and make his grave at the bottom of the unforgiving sea.

A long while had past since they had cast off, and the skies were dark from the fading sunlight. The sea was clear. Antonio had retired to his cabin. He had things that needed to be done. He needed to assure himself that the meeting with Vargas would go as planned. So many things could go wrong with that meeting. Augustus could easily turn the tides to push and pull in his favor. He could bring the Royal Navy of the British with him. The man was wealthy. He had good connections. He also had gained an ally out of Allistor. Allistor was a dangerous man. He, along with Augustus Vargas, could bring his downfall. If they decided to ambush him, he'd surely die. How many would get caught in the crossfire? What would happen?

So many thoughts raced through Antonio's mind. These were the stresses of being a pirate... He had lived with them for many years. He wasn't sure how many more he could take. He distracted himself from those stressors with something that brought back memories of his younger days.

Faint tunes and melodies sounded from the Captain's cabin. They were enchanting. They weren't the chaos of the instruments the crew played when they were too drunk to care. They were soft and calculated and belong to instruments far grander. The Austrian was playing the piano, his nimble, long fingers dancing upon the ivory, making out the softest tunes. They weren't as thunderous and soulful as before. He played lightly and calmly. There was still emotion to each of these keystrokes, but they were more serene. Antonio sat on his desk nearby, an old Spanish guitar resting on his lap beneath his ring-covered fingers. He picked the strings in accordance to what Roderich played despite the injury to his palm. He managed to keep up. Just when the Spaniard had thought he'd gotten the hang of what the melody was, however, the Austrian switched it up again. It was a sort of game of cat and mouse. Like usual, Antonio was cat. The mouse, as sneaky and swift as he was, had his own plans of evasion.

The Captain smiled gently. It had been a long while since he had played. With all that had been going on, he had not plucked at the strings once. There'd been far too much on his mind. Picking up the instrument was freeing. It felt as thought a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. That weight, however, was not entirely gone. It lingered above him like a stormy cloud. It tormented him by leaving him in a state of sadness and depression. As a way to cope, he vocalized that despair that he felt. He deviated from what Roderich was playing, and the Austrian seemed to follow Antonio's lead. He picked out a sad melody. When he sang, his words spoke of his life. They spoke of his past, his present, and his future.

He had spent his days with Francis and Gilbert, exploring the world when he was in his teenage years. He spent his days laughing and enjoying life. He had allowed his heart to decide his every action as a young man. He wanted to help the world. It was a foolish goal, but it was what his heart was set on. He followed his dreams to become a physician. When his sister became sick, he followed his heart to the place it was most loyal. He went to the King hoping to receive some sort of help and permission. When his heart grew angry, he followed it to the open sea and to piracy. He followed his heart to Lovino, but that led to danger. Danger surrounded the young Italian. His heart followed that danger.

Yes. This was all going to happen. He had made it that way. His every action in life had solely led up to this. Everything he'd done... Yes, he'd have to tell all of his secrets, too. He'd have to spill every terrible thing he'd done and own up to it some day. The great Creator above would see to that. Lovino would also have to find out about his every heinous deed. To earn his trust, he'd have to tell the boy everything. There was no other way...

Yes, he did regret everything he'd done. He'd hurt so many people, destroyed so many lives. Sometimes he couldn't even stand to look at himself in the mirror. He feared to see the specks and dots of blood smattering his skin after those particularly taxing battles. He feared to see the shallowness of his skin after a night of intense drinking. He hated to see the scars that these so-called enemies had given him. He'd grown tired of his reflection. He could no longer stand to see it staring back at him so forlornly.

He didn't live. He had lost so much time simply pillaging the seas. And for what? To drink away his youth and his fortune? More and more often, he cried and watched himself spiral out of control. He had lost control all of those years ago. The second he had chosen this life, he had lost control. He had made those decisions to try and gain it back, but no... It did not work. Once a pirate, always a pirate. There was no changing now.

His friends weren't the same around him anymore. They saw the changes in him. Hell, they had even pointed some of them out. The more badass he became, the scarier his persona was. He had changed. They hardly visited anymore, but that was a two way street. He never visited either, and that was part of the problem. Life was no longer a party like it was when the three members of the Bad Touch Trio were young. No so much anymore...

He had returned to his hometown only a few times since he had become a pirate. His first arrival was welcoming. He had come bearing gifts, and they had taken him in with open arms. Those poor folks of his home did not question where he had gotten them from. He was still new to this. He was working under Arthur Kirkland. His name as a pirate was not yet known. They didn't realize the monster he had become. As he began to sail the Wandering Anna Maria, his visits became less and less welcomed. He remembered the last one so vividly. After a particularly nasty battle with the Spanish Navy, his name as the Conquistador Antonio Fernandez was out there. He was feared. He drank too much. He was angry. Those people who had helped raise him could no longer look him in the eye. They were afraid of him.

As time wore on during that visit, he realized what they stares they gave him meant. They did not recognize him anymore. He had changed far too much. Where had he gone? Where was the sweet Antonio that they used to know? His mother must be so ashamed to have a son such as him. These were their whispered words when his back was turned. When a new light was shed on him, they found it impossible to recognize him. He couldn't bring up the past. He couldn't distract their judgmental gazes. No, he was not longer the carefree boy the village had raised. He was an entirely different person.

He never believed that he'd become this... If someone had come to him and told him he'd one day become a fearsome pirate, he would have told them that they were crazy. He never thought he'd become a monster. He had dreams and aspirations too. These were not them. He regretted every decision that had led him to such a sorry state of misery. He was pathetic, but there was nothing he could do.

No he could no longer live. He was glued to the bottle that had managed to find its way into his hand time and time again. He was trapped in this drunken state. He was hardly escaping. He had cried so many times as of late for the loss of everything he could have become. He cried, and it was pitiful. He cried over his own sorrows, and he cried over the pain he had caused so many others.

The adventurous air of being a pirate was gone. It was no longer carefree and fun. It was dangerous. It was life threatening. It was stressful. It was his life. He missed the old days, but there was no going back. His mother would never recognize him now. She'd surely hate him for what he had become. Honestly, he wasn't even sure if she was alive. Such a terrible son he was. She was probably rolling in her grave. She probably cried in Heaven at how shameful her only son had become. Life wasn't a party. It was a shitshow. He had been dealt his cards, and applied the correct way, he could had done so much more with himself. It was the way he had laid them down that had gotten him where he was. Maybe he could have saved her if he was more patient... Maybe he could have saved his beloved sister... Maybe he could have saved so many more. But the time for chivalry and honor had passed. He had made his choices so longer ago.

"A million years... ago..."

He was so immersed in the mus. He didn't even notice when the door had opened minutes earlier. He hadn't noticed when someone had slipped into the room so silently. He hadn't noticed they'd been staring. The door of the room had long since been opened and closed again, and Antonio was just now looking up from the strings of his guitar. Lovino stood near the doorway. His usual scowl was plastered on his face. His arms were crossed over his chest. He looked awkward waiting there, listening to Antonio pour out his soul in his words. Antonio's fingers stilled on the strings of his guitar as he stared at him, his breath catching slightly. How much had Lovino heard? How much of the pain did he read off of Antonio's features? After a moment or so of prolonged silence, he caught himself staring and stood, approaching the Italian.

The sadness was wiped from his features. He masked it so easily like had always managed to over the years. He looked at the boy with a carefree smile.

"What brings you here?" he asked softly.

Lovino shrugged. "I heard music, and I made the best I could out of that mess you call a cargo hold, so I decided to come find out who was playing," he said, averting his amber eyes sheepishly. "I didn't know you played guitar."

Now it was Antonio's turn to be sheepish. He blushed and shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "It's something I picked up when I was a child. I haven't played in a while, but I guess it's a muscle memory. It just stuck with me."

"It sounds good. And, uh, so does Roderich."

Antonio glanced over at the Austrian. He seemed to be in his own little world. He didn't even seem to know that Lovino and Antonio were there. He had his violet eyes trained on the piano in front of him. There would be no getting through to him.

"Gilbert and I decided we could pacify him with a piano, so, we let him play."

"And where did you get a piano?"

"I stole it from the same place I stole Roderich."

"Right. Pirate. Why did I even ask?" he said with a snort.

Antonio shrugged once again. He smiled suddenly, an idea coming to his mind. His ideas were always dangerous. It was part of the job description as a member of the Bad Touch Trio, dangerous ideas.

"Bastard, why are you smiling?" Lovino asked, his brow furrowed. A wary expression had appeared on his face. He had every right to be so given the person that stood before him.

Antonio bowed gracefully and help out his hand for the boy to take. "Might I have the honor of taking place as your partner during this dance, Signore Vargas."

"You're asking me to dance?" Lovino asked.

Antonio looked up at him, fully expecting to be rejected by the boy. Was it wrong of him to ask such a thing? He hadn't even thought of the complication behind his actions. He always had the tendency to act before he thought. "I understand if you don't want-"

"Fine."

"I'm sorry?"

"I'll dance with you..." he muttered, averting his gaze. His face was once again crimson, just like a very cute tomato. "Don't make me say it again."

Antonio grinned from ear to ear and took hold of Lovino's hand and waist. "Then, Signore, we shall dance."

The Spaniard pulled the boy close to him, their waists only centimeters from each other. Lovino was an intoxicating sight. His embarrassed amber eyes and flushed, faintly freckled cheeks... They must have come around from hours in the sun as a child. God, Antonio wanted to take in everything that was Lovino while he could. This was the first time in years he'd felt genuinely happy, having this strange Italian with him. He wanted to have him around as much as possible before he'd inevitably have to go home.

The pair glided across the floor of his cabin, Antonio taking the lead. Lvoino didn't seem to mind. Antonio had much practice over the years with the village girls of the towns he visited. He wanted to show off his prowess. Lovino seemed to know what he was doing as well, but then again, he could have just been following the motions. Antonio wouldn't have been surprised. The boy had said he'd run away and grown up on the streets. That didn't leave much time for dancing. Unless Augustus forced him to learn after returning home, he doubted that the boy had any actual skill. He wouldn't put it past the old man, either. Antonio focused his emerald gaze upon the boy. He may have not understood him just yet, but there was something that drew the Captain closer. He was glad to have met him, glad he made it home to the old man Augustus. If he had not, Antonio would have never met him. He would have never had this light in his dark world.

"You always stare at me, Bastard," Lovino said, averting his amber eyes for the umpteenth time.

"Believe me, Lovi, you are worth staring at."

The boy immediately looked back to him and flushed. He "It's Lovino, Bastard. You promise you would stop."

"I had my fingers crossed," he said with a lopsided grin. "Besides, I think Lovi sounds so... Adorable." His words came out as a whisper. He was entirely sober, yet he was drunk from the sight of this man. His actions and words hadn't been this giddy in years. It felt so freeing, so relieving, so lifting. "Are you sure I can't call you Lovi?"

"Fucking pirates..." Lovino muttered as his fixed his gaze on the Spaniard. "Fine, Bastard, but if you dare tell another soul, especially my brother, about that damned nickname..."

"You have my word, little Lovi," Antonio cooed, spinning slowly around the floor.

The Italian seemed to be forcing back a smile that threatened to appear on his face, but he failed. It wa slipping through the cracks, betraying his cold demeanor. As the Spaniard lead them across the floor, he was seeing more and more of everything that was Lovino. He was seeing all of the expressions on his face and all of the little quirks that were him. So rarely did he smile. Antonio felt privileged to see it. It wasn't a forced one. It was genuine. It was pure. It reached his eyes and made them glow. He was so beautiful when he smiled, when he allowed some of his barriers to fall down. Antonio found himself immersed in it all. He didn't want to let go, he didn't want these moments to end.

"Do you remember when I said I'd tell you my third condition later?" he asked suddenly.

Antonio nodded, raising a brow. "Of course, mi pequeño tomate."

Lovino snorted at the nickname but continued anyways without protest. "Well... I want to tell you now."

"Sí?" Antonio asked.

He slowed to a gentle sway with Roderich's playing. His green eyes surveyed Lovino. There was something behind those pools of amber. It wasn't just embarrassment like he seemed to always feel. It was something more. It was such a strange look. Antonio through it to be want and desire, maybe even lust. He craved it to be. He longed for Lovino to reciprocate some small ounce of the emotion and affection he felt towards him. There was something in those guarded amber eyes, and Antonio had to know exactly what.

The Captain drew in closer to the boy. It was as if some unknown force was making them gravitate towards each other until their lips were inches apart.

"Antonio... I..." Lovino muttered.

The Spaniard's heart fluttered as his name rolled so beautifully off of Lovino's tongue. It sounded like gold and honey mixed together to make some heavenly concoction. It was the first time Lovino had said his name, and he prayed, dear Lord, that it would not be the last. He let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding and stared at Lovino with expectant emerald eyes.

"I want you to-"

A flash of lightning lit up the sky and illuminated the entire lantern-lit cabin. Antonio and Lovino jumped apart, and Roderich's playing came to an abrupt halt. Antonio paused and waited, counting the seconds as they ticked by. Not ten later, a crack of thunder tore through the cabin. Objects rattled around them. He could feel the vibrations spreading throughout the ship. The sound alone was strong enough to shake the Wandering Anna Maria.

Antonio took a step back from the boy and turned towards the windows at the back of his study. Even in the darkness, he could see it. Charcoal, rolling clouds covered the sky. It was pitch black, he realized, now that he was actually looking. Not a single star showed through the thick blanket that were the thunderclouds. It was as if the darkness had poured from the outside into his cabin with that crash of thunder. The few lanterns he had lit earlier that evening did little to cut through the darkness. Shadows were cast in all directions from those flickering flames. The lanterns swayed with the rocking ship.

"Oh, Dios mío..." Antonio whispered. He looked to Roderich first. Gilbert was commanding the Lili Marlene. He was nowhere to be seen. Someone had to give the land-loving Austrian direction. "We need to get on deck now. Roderich, go find Bella or Francis. They'll tell you where to go. Lovino, douse the lamps so they don't break and start a fire. This is going to be one hell of a storm.

As Antonio stepped into the hall, he realized the gravity of the situation he had just found him in. Oh, Dios mío, what had he nearly done? He had nearly allowed himself... To kiss Lovino. He was playing such a dangerous game with the boy leaving so soon. It was a dangerous game in general He was a wanted man, he realized. Even if Lovino returned his affections, they could never be together. It would be too painful when he inevitably was killed in battle or at the hangman's noose. He could never allow himself such a thing as love. It would be too painful for Lovino. He could never hurt that boy ever again...

He pushed the thoughts from his mind as he stumbled onto the deck. The wind was picking up. The air around him was damp and thick with moisture. He could smell the storm coming. This was not just dark clouds rolling on by. This was going to be Hell on Earth that they were going to face. Antonio looked round, spotting his first mate. Bella was barking orders at the crew. She hadn't even changed out of the gown she had put on. She was still dressed up from her afternoon out with her mysterious man-friend. This storm had caught them all off guard. Whether or not she was dressed for the occasion, she was prepared to ride out this storm with the rest of the crew on deck.

"Captain, it came out of nowhere!" Bella yelled as the wind whistled around her.

"Hoist the sails! Secure everyone with a life rope! I'm not losing anyone to this unforgiving sea tonight!" Antonio roared.

The wind howled around him causing the sails to billow. They hadn't gotten tied down yet. Hell, the crew had hardly started, but the gusts were too strong. The men could hardly raise them a few inches before the riggings and ropes were torn from their hands. The Captain cursed loudly, but his words were drowned out by the sounds of the sea and its approaching storm. He pushed his way towards the mast through the throng of his crew, looking for the life ropes. Bella was already tying some of the men off, shouting at others to do the same. Antonio began check all of the ropes, making sure they were secured tightly to the pegs in the mast. If any knot came loose, they'd surely lose a man to the tossing waves. It was what he planned on avoiding. No man would die because of him and his foolish need to get away.

The sky suddenly opened to emit a glowing bolt. Moments later the shattering sound of the lightning tore through the sky. The light always came first, illuminating the sky. It was as if God wanted to show his power before he spoke his anger. Antonio ignored His words and began to count the seconds. He tore across the deck as he did so, assuring himself that everyone was tied down. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Thunder crashed through the sky again, rumbling everyone and everything that was on the ship. Only five seconds between the lightning and the thunder. It was so close. Those five seconds meant a mile. The storm was a mile off from where the Wandering Anna Maria rocked on the foaming waves. They were not going to avoid it. It was practically on top of them already.

Antonio looked around again. They were secure as far as he could tell. The men were secure. They'd survive so long as their ropes did not come undone or snap. It was a small relief compared to the many stressed on the Captain's shoulders.

The rain had started coming slowly at first. It was a misty drizzle that was easy to see through. Hell, it was a bit of a relief from the heat of a normal day in the Caribbean, but it quickly picked up. Heavy droplets crashed down against the wooden deck of the ship. It was slippery under Antonio's boots, but after many years at seas as an experienced sailor, he managed to stay upright. He brushed back his sopping curls from his face, his eyes searching frantically. The sails were finally raised. They were being tied down as he watched. The lanterns that had not already been doused were falling victim to the heavy rain. All was right in the world except one thing. The Captain was not at the helm. Antonio took to the stairs, bounding up two at a time until he reached the top. A drenched Francis stood at the wheel, holding the Wandering Anna Maria steady. His blond hair was plastered to his ace. His clothes stuck to his skin. He was soaked to the bone, but he seemed not to care about anything other than keeping the ship upright.

"'Tonio! This sea is monstrous!" Francis bellowed, fighting against the waves to keep the ship steady. "Who knew this storm would brew just as we leave Tortuga. I blame your terrible luck! Fate does not like you, my friend!"

"God, Francis! God and his cruel mistress, Fate! They only know, and you best pray that they won't toss us into the sea's merciless depths tonight!" Antonio yelled.

"I won't be letting that happen, mon copain! I am driven by love to keep this beautiful vessel afloat!" Francis replied. "Besides, Davy Jones can't handle my good looks! I won't have Mathieu getting jealous over a one-side, unrequited love!"

Antonio laughed loudly. Francis was the only man alive that he knew who could put love first at a time such as this.

"Go get yourself secured to a life rope with the rest of the crew and man the tiller! I'm the captain of this ship, and I'll be the one to direct her out of this mess that I've gotten her into."

Francis nodded curtly and allowed Antonio to take the wheel. The sea crashed hard against the ship, threatening to topple her, but the Captain managed to keep her upright. His knuckles were white as he gripped onto the wheel for dear life, and tonight his life was certainly at stake. He had not taken the time to secure himself to a life rope. The rest of the crew had to, but he needed to be here. Their jobs were done. The sails were hoisted and everyone was tied down to the mast. His job was to steer clear of the waves and ride them carefully to safety. Water rushed across the deck, knocking some of the crew from their feet. None were tossed overboard. He had Bella to thank for that.

Salt water and rain battered Antonio's body, and he took the beating like a martyr. The more fierce and hectic the storm grew, the calmer Antonio became. He was a Conquistador. He was used to conquering unruly things. And if that meant conquering a gambling sea that attempting to beat him black and blue, then so be it. He saw the waves crash and swirl around them, but their darkness did not match that of his soul. He was prepared for this battle. The anger at himself that raged inside of him fed him; it prepared him. If the sea created walls of the waes, he'd plow through them. If they threatened to pull his ship belly up, he'd force her afloat. This sea had sent a curse, yes, but he'd survive through it this time, and each time after that. The wind was driving the rain faster, harder, stronger than he had ever felt it before. It was driving him. He had to face it. He had to conquer. He may have been cold from the torrential downpour, but that flame in his heart kept him going. That flame was fed by his anger and his power, and power was what he would have over the Caribbean that night.

Another fork of lightning flashed through the sky, white-hot and angry. The Captain's green eyes followed the bolt to the mast. It struck. His heart stopped. He prayed that she, his beautiful ship, did not catch fire. He watched for any sign of flame, his breath caught in his throat, but it seemed the wood was too wet to burn. Relief flooded him, but that relief was short lived. Thunder sounded not even three seconds after the lightning hit. The storm was closing in on them. Antonio scanned the ship. His crew seemed disoriented, but they hung tight to the ship. They didn't have any intentions of being tossed into the blackened waters where they'd surely drown, and neither did he.

A wall of water suddenly came rushing at the ship. It flooded over the sides of the Wandering Anna Maria, sweeping the Captain from his feet. He was tossed against the banisters, his head cracking against the wood. He saw stars for few brief moments as he clung desperately to the rails. The rushing waves threatened to send him overboard, but he held on for dear life. Through the low visibility, he could barely make out the wheel of the ship spinning as the rough sea moved the rudders and turns the ship. He cursed against the screaming wind and pushed himself to his feet. He was a little dizzy, and he was sure he felt the warm stickiness of blood from the same wound he had received only a few weeks earlier. A stabbing pain was at his side as well. A quick check how it was covered in blood. He'd surely need to get that check out later, but this was not the time. Through the rain and wind, he could see someone standing at the helm with him. He was not surprised to find that it was Bella. She was taking hold of the wheel of the ship when he had failed to do so. That was what she was best at, picking up his slack.

"Go find Lovino! I've not seen him, and I know for damn sure that he is not on the main deck! I think he's looking for his brother, but Feliciano is on the Lili Marlene!" she yelled above the howling wind.

Did no one tell the boy that his brother was not on board? Had they been foolish and careless enough to avoid telling him. Antonio cursed and nodded to Bella before he was running from the helm. He narrowly avoiding falling down the slippery stairs as he ran. He did not see him. He did not see his precious Italian. He green eyes began to search frantically as he tied a life rope around his waist. There was no sign of the boy. Antonio turned and turned, his hand clamped to his side to help stopper the bleeding of his injuries.

And then he spotted him. He saw Lovino running across the deck. He was alive. His world was okay.

"Lovino!" he yelled. The boy turned to face him, relief flashing on his young features.

But Fate and God had always been cruel to him. They had always found a way to hurt him and tear him down.

As Lovino turned to run towards him, another wave surged across the deck. With the raging salt water, the sea had taken the light to Antonio's darkness.

The sea had come and claimed Lovino for its own.


	8. Chapter 8

_Antonio_

The world seemed to stop around him. Everything was frozen in time. No one moved. No one spoke. He himself could scarcely breathe. His skin had turned to ice; he was so cold despite the heat of the Caribbean. He felt numb to the core, hollow even. It felt as if he wasn't there in the middle of the _Wandering Anna Maria._ The rain poured down around him and the waves threatened to knock him from his feet all in a slow motion. Time had stopped as he watched that powerful wave completely sweep his light from his feet and toss him carelessly into the raging sea. He felt like a ghost on an astral plane of existence. He could do nothing to stop the treacherous sea from swallowing him whole. He was gone. And then his world was suddenly shattering and falling to pieces around him. Pain followed. It poured through every ounce of his being and coursed through his veins. He had not felt a pain so in so many years, not since he had come home to find _her_ dead and buried. There was a hole at Antonio's center now. This was too surreal. The pain was phenomenal. It was sharp and digging and unlike anything else, he had ever felt before. How was he to go on living? His light had been extinguished. He could no longer see. His world had suddenly been shrouded in this darkness. The skies around him were dark and devoid of any light. The clouds were dark and shriveled and broken, just like his heart. It was suddenly a very dark place, his existence. The boy he had come to care far too much about was gone, dead, missing for all of eternity. He was lost to the unforgiving king of the sea, Davy Jones himself. God, Antonio had been so _selfish_. He was a self-centered, stupid Captain. He had been far too concerned with the safety of the men who had been sailing for decades instead of those were far less experienced. He had been so hell bent on conquering what was seemingly unconquerable that he forgot to protect the man he had grown to care so much about. He was trying to conquer the sea when in turn, the sea had made plans to conquer him instead. This was not how these final weeks were supposed to go. He was not supposed to die. Antonio didn't even have a body to bury. He didn't have a pier to set aflame. He had no sort of closure. What if he was alive and simply floating out there? What if he was struggling to stay afloat in the monstrous waves? What if he found himself on some desert island all alone? Antonio could not bear to think it. No, this was not his plan. This storm was not supposed to be his judgment day. It was not supposed to determine whether he had a future or he destroyed himself in his grief. It was not supposed to swallow someone so bright and beautiful and take all of his light with it. No, this was not how it was supposed to go. Lovino was supposed to travel back to Italy where he'd be safe from the cruelty of pirates. He was supposed to leave Antonio with heartbreak that was manageable. He was supposed to marry and live happily so Antonio could somehow find a way to move on. He was supposed to leave fond memories for him to look upon. He was not supposed to become one of the many lost souls Davy Jones had snatched up. He was not supposed to go and take an entire part of Antonio with him that could never be mended or healed. He was not supposed to die at the hands of the sea. How could he have let this happen?

It wouldn't. He could never allow it.

 _"MAN OVERBOARD!"_ a thickly accented voice yelled over the howling wind.

A heavy hand fell on his shoulder and everything seemed to move again. His crew was running, trying to keep order on the ship. It was all going to hell. Antonio turned slowly to face the owner of the voice and the hand only to find Francis. His blue eyes locked with Antonio's own emerald ones. There was something behind those eyes that spoke more words than the Spaniard could utter at a time such as this. Francis understood. He understood Antonio's pain. When he had felt such heartbreak like that which tore through him currently, Antonio was unsure. He had never seen that torment and agony in Francis' eyes. Then again, with the state he had been in for the last few years, he probably just hadn't noticed. But Francis had kept his calm. He had done so much better in this situation compared to Antonio. He had immediately drawn the conclusion that Lovino was dead. He hadn't even tried to go after him. He hadn't been calm and collected like Francis. He had let his emotions take the best of him. Francis, on the other hand, was making some attempt to fix it. He was trying to right the situation before Antonio crumbled back into his drunken stupor like he surely would if the boy died.

His mind was set before anyone could change it. He started running towards the edge of the ship. He shoved past anyone who was in his way. He would not be stopped. Eyes followed him as he tore across the deck. His own were focussed on the area directly in front of him. He had his sight set on the sea. He drew nearer, close enough to lean over the railings and look at the depths below. Instead, without breaking stride, he put on foot on the railing and propelled himself off of the ship. He was fully prepared to dive into the swirling waters, but he then risked losing his sense of direction. He instead went feet first. He felt the wind rush around him as he plunged towards the sea. He waited for the wild, warm waters of the Caribbean to surround him, but they never did. No, instead, his body slammed into the side of the ship. The wind was knocked from his lungs and a sharp pain shot through his arm all the way down to his wrist. It was as if the limb as being ripped from his shoulder. He looked up, fully expecting Francis to be holding fast to his arm in order to stop him from one of his thoughtless stunts, but it was not. No, it was someone entirely different.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing? Are you fucking insane?" Lovino yelled over the howling wind.

Lovino.

He was alive. Davy Jones had been merciful. He hadn't swallowed him and dragged him into the depths of the sea. He had not stolen the light that illuminated Antonio's world. He was alive, clinging to the ladder rungs on the side of the ship. He must have caught hold of them as he went overboard. Antonio stared up at him in awe. Air finally filled his lungs as he laughed. Sheer joy spread throughout his entire being. He was _alive_. A devilish grin crept onto his facial features.

"I was coming to rescue you, of course," he said. How that wasn't apparent to Lovino, Antonio didn't quite understand. It was obvious to _him_. It was the simplest thing in the world. Why _wouldn't_ he go after Lovino?

"I will never understand what goes on through that thick skull of yours. Now, get your fat ass on the ladder before I drop you. You weigh more than a fat king on his throne, and that's saying something."

Antonio looked up and took hold of the ladder rungs in front of him. Using any of the strength in his battered body that he could muster, he pulled himself up slowly. He was exhausted, but he was also relieved. He wouldn't have to mourn the death of the light that night. He wouldn't wonder if he'd gotten sucked away by the sea that battered his back now. The journey upwards was swift due to these more pleasant thoughts that ran through his head. Many hands pulled him over the rails onto the safety of the deck as he reached the top. Lovino followed shortly after him. Neither men, however, gave any words of thanks. Antonio hadn't given them the time.

"Everyone back to your stations! We're riding out this devil of a storm and sailing back towards Tortuga!"

And without a second thought or a moment of hesitation, he was back at the wheel, commanding his ship that the sea had tried to commandeer.

The waters had finally calmed to a gentle sway as they neared the shores of Tortuga. The clouds had cleared from the sky, leaving the night with a blanket of stars. The rolling thunder was now a far off memory in the distance. It took its destructive friend, lightning, with it. Just as quickly as the storm had come, it had gone, leaving the Captain and crew of the _Wandering Anna Maria_ exhausted and drenched from head to toe. All in all, the venture was a stalemate. They hadn't lost a single man to the rolling waves. Injuries were sustained, but none were life threatening. There were a few damages to his beloved ship, but these could be fixed within the next few days in Tortuga.

There was no way Antonio could get around staying in Tortuga. There was no avoiding it. There was no way on God's green Earth he could engage in combat with another ship let alone show up to Vargas' door with the _Wandering Anna Maria_ below full marks. He'd take too many hits to his pride that way. He also had to improve his own health. When Antonio left the wheel of his beloved ship to one of his crew, his hair was plastered to his face, dripping water down his back. He was chilled to the bone despite the heat of the Caribbean. He was bruised and bleeding in more places than he could fathom to count. He knew of a new gash on the back of his head next to the one from only a few weeks earlier as well as the wound on his hand that had been spliced open once more. Something had stabbed his side when he crashed into the railings, too. None of these injuries seemed major from what he could tell. They were things he could take care of at a later point. He had taken a beating on those waves. As much as he hated being stranded at port, he'd have to make do with at least a few days. He was by no means in any shape to stand upright, he found now that the adrenaline the storm had brought on had subsided. He could never engage in a dangerous battle with the British or evade capture from Vargas. He was lucky he was awake and aware. The sea had certainly kicked his ass, but it had not conquered him at least.

Yes, he concluded, it certainly was a stalemate.

Antonio slowly approached Bella and Lovino, who sat on a few stray crates in the lantern light. Bella was tending to the cuts and scrapes that littered Lovino's tanned skin. The two spoke amicably. Lovino seemed to pull down his walls so easily in front of her. He was smiling and laughing, and Antonio couldn't help but find a low burning jealousy forming at his center. Lovino rarely smiled around _him_. He hardly even _spoke_ to him without a slew of curses flying from his mouth. He heard not a single one escaping from his beautiful lips now. He seemed to be so at ease right then, talking to Bella. Antonio only wished he could understand what they were saying. They were speaking Italian. When had Bella learned Italian? The Spaniard wrinkled his nose and stepped closer, placing his unmarred hand on Bella's shoulder. She looked up from where she was concentrated on bandaging to look at Antonio. Bella smiled warmly before tying off the fabric on Lovino's arm.

"I didn't know you spoke Italian," he said. The words came unbidden from his lips. His mouth seemed to have a mind of its own. He had intended to ask how they were, not intrude on their conversation. He would have much rather ignored its existence. Sadly, his bitter curiosity had gotten the best of him.

"Growing up in my home, I was required to learn a few different languages, including Italian. I may be a bit rusty, but I still understand the basics. Francis, although he might plead otherwise, knows more than I do," she said, starting on Lovino's other arm.

Antonio nodded curtly but said nothing more for a while. He wanted to comment, of course, but his words were bitter. He felt a pang of jealousy flowing through him. _She_ could talk to Lovino in his native tongue. _She_ was receiving his warm smiles. _She_ was growing closer to him so easily, and Antonio found it quite irritating. This is while the words remained tucked inside the folds of his mind. Silence fell for a many long, tense moments, and Antonio was the only one willing to fill it, it seemed.

"How are the two of you?" he asked, forcing a weary smile onto his lips. He was exhausted. He needed to rest inside of his cabin, but instead, he took a seat beside them, caring only to discover more about their _relationship_.

Bella spoke first, an equally forced smile on her own features. "We're fine. I've got a couple of nicks and bruises, but nothing that will have me keeling over by morning. And when Lovino went overboard, he managed to scrape the skin off a good portion of his arm."

Simultaneously, a frown formed on both Antonio and Lovino's lips. For the first time in a long time, he wished that Bella was not there to patch wounds. _He'd_ much rather be in charge of Lovino's cuts and bruises. _He_ wanted those tender, almost intimate moments to himself. Still, although bitter, he was also grateful she was there when he could not be. He had to be. She was there to ensure that Lovino didn't die when he had his sights on the sea and nowhere else. She at least had a level head on her shoulders.

"I told you I was fine," Lovino muttered, an embarrassed flushed creeping its way onto his cheeks. "I have had worse injuries before."

"It's nothing a bit of the salve Toni makes won't fix. And don't you dare argue with me, either, Lovino," she snapped. No. No one argued with Bella. Although she was only his first mate, she was the Mother Hen of this ship. It was often decided that she was scarier than Antonio when she was pissed.

Lovino scowl deepened just for a moment before the expression morphed into a warm smile. He muttered a sheepish word of thanks and moved on from the subject. Antonio, however, was stuck on that _smile_.

It was a _warm_ smile. How the hell had Bella managed to pull something of the sort from the cold Italian? This was not the first, either. Lovino had been smiling when Antonio approached. Warm smiles were hardly even reserved for the man's brother, who deserved them most of all. So, why didn't Lovino ever smile at him like that? Was he really that awful to him? Was he truly too terrible of a person to give the occasional warm smile? Or had Bella stolen his heart? Did she capture his attention? Was he enraptured with her? Had he fallen in love with the Captain's first mate? The thought left him feeling sick. Antonio wrinkled his nose in a confused sort of way. So few times he had actually made the man beside him smile. So few times he had gotten something more than a scowl. How was he supposed to change that fact? How was he supposed to have what _Belladonna_ had so easily procured?

"Bastard, what the fuck is that expression on your face? You look constipated. Does Bella need to make you something to make you shit?" Lovino snapped.

Antonio shrugged slightly, averting his emerald gaze. He could already feel the embarrassment painting itself in red all over his cheeks and ears. He folded his hands in front of him, and in a nervous sort of way began rubbing at the gash that had reopened on his palm.

A silence fell between the three of them; it was a silence that the Spaniard hadn't realized he had been craving. He was exhausted and unwilling to try and defend himself. It had a certainly been one of the longest days of his life, and it left him vulnerable to all of Lovino's verbal abuse. Still, he didn't mind. He was comfortable, at least as comfortable as he could be with the _lovely_ couple in front of him.

Lovino was the first to break it. "You managed to cut open your hand again, dumb bastard?" Lovino asked, snatching up Antonio's hand.

The Captain's eyes and head immediately darted towards Lovino. A fit of lightheadedness and nausea was quick to follow. He ignored it the best he could and instead watched as Lovino examined his hand in the lamplight.

"My stitches are gone entirely. How the hell did you manage that?"

Bella snorted. "He probably pulled them out in his sleep last night. It wouldn't be the first time he's done it. It's actually a pretty common occurrence with him."

Antonio shot her a quick glare. "I did not. If you can't see, this is my blade wielding hand. I need it," he grumbled sourly. "I wouldn't just tear it apart so willingly."

Antonio looked down at in his right hand which lay in Lovino's. He could feel the Italian's calloused fingertips gently brushing against his skin. It brought back waves of thoughts and emotions. The little things Lovino did, like examining and stitching his wounds, confused Antonio. At times he could be so gentle and caring, but then again, he could never manage a warm smile in his direction. Yes, his mind was still wrapped around that damned smile. It looked so beautiful on him. He wanted to see more of it, but at the same time, he wanted to be the only person to actually _see_ it. It seemed, however, he would never earn it the way _Belladonna_ had. She had seen the warmest of his smiles. She had gained his _affection_. Lovino _must_ have had feelings for her. His walls fell down completely around her. He was only so gentle with Antonio because he had to be because he was afraid of him as the terrifying Captain of this ship. He couldn't blame Lovino for being so smitten with his first mate. She was, in fact, a very beautiful woman, and there was a time, many moons ago that he had felt the same way. She had captured his attention, but he couldn't help but feel a line had been crossed now that she was stealing _his_ Italian's.

When Lovino dropped his hand, he spoke again. He was not looking to gain sympathy. He was merely telling the truth.

"It probably happened during the storm. I got knocked around quite a bit... I actually feel a little nauseous... I hit my head when the waves pushed me off my feet. I might turn in for the evening," Antonio mumbled, resting his elbows on his knees. He let his head fall onto his knuckles gently. He closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. The small amount of stilled rest seemed to ease his nausea just a bit. It was no longer coming is harsh, unbidden waves. What he wanted more than anything was sleep, but he knew it'd be dangerous. His training as a physician had told him that a patient should never sleep if they were experiencing nausea and lightheadedness after a blow to the head. The had the tendency not to wake afterward if they did. No, he could not sleep until it had passed.

Still, he did not want to bother Bella and Lovino. They seemed to be having such a lovely time before he arrived. It was quite _evident_ that they were madly in love. Why should he ruin that with his inconveniently timed pain? Besides, he didn't need their help. He was a full grown man. He could take care of himself.

"Let me see, Toni," Bella said.

Antonio gave a half-hearted "No" before making a move to stand.

He heard the shuffle of her feet, which signaled her rising from her perch. He also heard Lovino stand as well. Bella's hand were on his shoulders immediately, ushering him back into his seat. She wasn't going to take his weak response seriously. Antonio loosed a sigh and allowed his head to fall back into his hands. He then suddenly felt the warmth of the lantern at the back of his skull. He assumed one of the pair had brought the lantern closer so they could see. Moments later, Bella's soft fingers were gently sifting through his thick, wet, chocolate curls. When they brushed over the tender spot on the back of his skull, he sucked in a tight breath and pulled away from her probing fingers. That swift jerk sent waves of nausea over him as well as hundreds of tiny needles through his side. His fingers found his waist, and he desperately clutched at it in an attempt to soothe the pain. The action did nothing but cause fresh blood to seep through the thin fabric of his shirt onto his already grimy fingers. It was then decided that fast movements were not his friend.

"That would be the spot..." he hissed, turning towards Bella. Even more lightheadedness and nausea swept over him from the simple movement.

"Stop moving," she snapped in reply. She parted his hair away from the gash once more and continued to examine it. After a few quiet moments. "You won't die. Whatever blood had come is gone now. It's just a laceration at this point. We can stitch you up nice and clean when we get to your cabin. Do you have any other injuries."

Antonio was about to respond when Lovino's angry voice rang out.

"Bastard, why are you holding onto your waist like you're about to die?" He moved from behind Antonio and stood in front of him. He snatched Antonio's unwounded hand and examined it for further injury.

"It's just a scratch. Don't blow this out of proportion," Antonio grumbled, turning his head away. He snatched his hand away from Lovino's grasp. It was covered in the thick, dark crimson substance that was his blood.

"Bullshit. You're bleeding out, asshole," Lovino snapped. He lifted the lantern so it was closer to the Spaniard. "Half of your shirt is soaked in not just water, but _blood_. This is anything but _nothing_."

"You're over-reacting, both of you. It's just a scratch." Why did Lovino care anyways? He should have been looking over _Belladonna_ to make sure she was alright.

"That's what Mercutio said before he _died_." Lovino voice was quickly becoming shrill with anger and frustration. He was drawing the eyes of the crew one by one.

"I have no idea who that is, Lovino."

"It's a character written by Shakespeare."

"I don't know who that is, either."

"How do you not? Everyone has heard of Shake-" Lovino let out a low growl of frustration. "Take off your shirt."

"What? You want me to strip right now? This is hardly the place, Lovino," Antonio said slyly. He knew his vain attempts at flirting with the boy weren't going to go far now that he had his sights on _Belladonna_ , but one could not knock a man for trying.

"Christ, Francis has been rubbing off on you, hasn't he? That bastard," the boy grumbled, setting down the lantern he held on a crate beside them. "This is not the time for modesty or for your head to be in the gutter."

"Antonio, I swear to the Lord Almighty, I will confine you to your cabin until we leave Tortuga if you do not comply. We're trying to help you," Bella snapped.

Antonio rolled his eyes. These two were pitting against him. He couldn't believe it, but then again, he could. They had certainly become _friends_ , if not lovers. He knew they both were stubborn people, and when they put their heads together, they were a force to be reckoned with. Even with the help of Francis and Gilbert in trying to break him loose, Bella would certainly put him out of commission for the remainder of the time that they were in Tortuga.

The Captain held up his hands in mock surrender. "I yield," he said, looking the both of them directly in the eyes. "Just, dear Lord, calm down. It's nothing major."

He pulled off his shirt as he stood, but that action is what sent him over the edge. The world began to spin around him. Black spots had formed in his vision. His legs gave way beneath him. He was falling, falling so quickly. The ground was coming closer and closer to meet him with the roughest of kisses, but before they met, strong arms wrapped around him. They were the only things preventing his love affair with the ground.

"Toño!" Lovino's masculine voice called out. He sounded so despaired and pained. Antonio desperately wanted to assure him that he was fine, that he was just dizzy, but before he had the chance, darkness swallowed him like a blanket of night.

"I swear to God, the Lord Almighty, Belladonna if you can't learn to hold a needle still while your sew, I will stitch up the damned wound myself."

"Don't you _dare_ call me that, dammit. And don't you get cross with me, either. This would have been a hell of a lot easier if you hadn't dumped almost every bottle of rum on the ship into the _harbor_ like a dumbass! I would have spared more of what I found when I was patching up the rest of the crew if I had been made aware of this fact!"

"I'm sorry! I know it was a rash decision, but at the time, it didn't seem that way. What else was I supposed to do that late at night?"

"Talk to someone? You have me! Francis, Gilbert, Lovino! Hell, I'm sure Ludwig would listen if you asked. You're practically an older brother to him!"

"And what was I supposed to say? Hey Francis and Gilbert, I'm a drunk who hurts everyone and everything in sight. Help me. Hey, Bella, I need you to lock all of the alcohol in your cabin and distribute it to everyone but me. Lovino, I'm sad, so if you have a moment, could you give me a hug? I could really use one right now. Somehow, I don't think that would fly."

"You're charismatic. You'd have thought of something."

"I didn't need to _think_. I needed to _act_. So I _acted_ and got rid of it. If it was there, I would have drunk it. It had to go."

"God, you're so _infuriating_."

"Me? You're the one shaking while you sew. I'm not _clothing_ , Belladonna. I'm hu- Ow!" A thread had suddenly tugged roughly, sufficiently silencing him. Antonio's fingers tightened in his curls where his hand rested above his head.

"If you would shut your mouth, I could concentrate on sewing this shut!"

"I'm trying to distract myself from the pain! If you hadn't noticed, _Belladonna_ , I've got a hole in me. It's not exactly painless."

The woman beside him tugged the thread roughly once again, forcing a hiss of pain from his lips. "If you didn't insist on calling me Belladonna, you'd have a hell of a lot fewer problems."

"This is _not_ the first time you've sewn my wounds shut. I _know_ you pulled that string on purpose. You've done this a thousand times. You don't make _mistakes_. Stop making intentional ones just because you're pissy. And dear God, Lovino, if you don't stop pacing, so help me, I will find a way to stop you myself. You're making this situation a hell of a lot more tense than needed."

Lovino turned on his heel and opened his mouth to start yelling. Instead, however, and much to Antonio's surprise, it snapped back shut and he resumed pacing.

He should have seen this coming. He had been foolish not to anticipate a reaction such as this. Bella and Lovino had banded together and were pitted against him. Now he faced their wrath. Their combined fury was the last thing he wanted to invoke. The two of them were pissed and had the power to kill him with just a glance - or in Bella's case, a simple stab.

Antonio sucked in a tight breath as Bella sent the needle digging once more into his skin. She was sewing shut yet another one of his injuries. The gash from when he has been knocked off his feet into the railings of the _Anna Maria_ was larger than he had anticipated. He hadn't realized he had lost so much blood; a good amount of it had gotten washed away with the rain and left him none the wiser. Still, it was stupid of him to leave that wound for last. He _had_ been just a tad preoccupied with other issues, though.

Such as the way Bella and Lovino interacted with each other. They were friendly with each other and definitely on good terms. He wouldn't have been surprised if they'd shared some of their secrets. He had been so distracted by the way they could be so amicable with one another that he had completely disregarded his injuries. He so craved to point out this information, that the two had become quite close, but he held back. It was far too dangerous right now to allow his jealousy to show by mentioning their friendliness. Yes, he was jealous, he couldn't deny himself that fact. Their friendliness with one another had certainly led to his downfall. He had been blinded to his own needs, and now he was paying dearly for more pain was invoked by the other two. This was their combined fury he was facing now.

And their torture was what he had woken up to. And like most things in his life, it began with pain. First, the burn of rum seared the flesh of the open wound along his ribcage. It had woken him with a start, and he fought against strong hands to get away from the stream of hell. Those hands slipped and slided against his tanned skin which was slick with a cold sweat. He was too delirious to care about what was going on. He pulled and thrashed. He simply _had_ to get away. When his green eyes finally opened to take in his surroundings in his half conscious state, it was Lovino he saw pinning him to the length of his desk. It was Lovino forcing him under the unsteady stream of fire. Lovino held him still while Bella continued to pour the remaining of that foul, scorching liquid onto his open wound. He couldn't help but feel betrayed that they'd hurt him so... But as his senses slowly came to him, he told himself that they were only trying to help. From what he could tell, the pair had already sewn shut the wound on his head and hand. Both were wrapped neatly in white fabric.

The Spaniard managed to calm himself down enough for his struggles to cease. Then the pair explained to him best they could what had happened in concerned voices. Like always, he had Bella to take care of him. He owed her his life and so much more for each time she saved his. He couldn't convey that now, though. The mood had gone sour far too quickly. Their concern had worn off and changed to fury. It didn't take long for Bella's feminine form to shake with rage. She was pissed at him for being stupid and foolish. He was in pain and craved a drink. This situation was not unlike the other times she had patched him up. She was always angry with him for being foolish. She always claimed that he could have avoided injury. He didn't believe that that was the case. Injury followed him like a thief and his gold. It was a vicious cycle he in which he was always reliving.

What he was not used to was Lovino's white hot fury. He had been pacing off in the corner ever since Bella had begun sewing his side shut.

Was he wrong to hide something like a life threatening injury from them? Yes, of course, he was. He realized that after he woke up, but he couldn't help what he did when he was jealous. It turned him into an entirely different person. Did he regret making such an ass of himself? Yes, of course, he did because now he had no choice but to suffer under their intense criticism and anger. It was in the least bit enjoyable.

All of sudden, Lovino ceased pacing and whirled on Antonio. His amber eyes were alight with rage. "What the hell were you thinking?" he snapped. "You jumped off your fucking ship! Were you _trying_ to get yourself killed? Are you _fucking_ stupid?" He held up a hand to stop Antonio because he could reply. "Don't answer that. Of fucking course you are. You're a dumb bastard. First, you get stabbed by God only knows what, and you don't let anyone else take the wheel. Then, you jumped off of your fucking ship all because of me before rationally thinking over the situations. Finally, you think it's _smart_ to hide your injuries. You could have _died_. Why didn't you tell _me_ about your injuries? What happened to the whole _caring_ about me thing? If you cared, you don't intentionally put yourself in harm's way! Don't try to get yourself _killed_. It would make my life a hell of a lot easier right now, but easy isn't what I asked for, now is it? Oh, and don't think I didn't see that fucking dark ass expression on your face when you came over earlier. You were jealous. It was painted all over your face, bastard. You can't hide your emotions worth shit, so don't even try lying about it now. You hid your _life threatening_ _injuries_ because of what? Your _fucking pride_. I can't believe you!"

Lovino trailed off into a string of Italian obscenities and curses, and Antonio spaced out on him. It _was_ his pride that had caused this whole mess, wasn't it? As soon as he had seen Bella and Lovino speaking so amicably, he had gotten cold and distant with the pair of them. He hadn't mentioned his injuries. He didn't want them to care. He didn't _need_ them to care. He didn't help from either of them if _they_ didn't _need_ him. Yes, his pride had caused quite a bit of damage.

"Are you fucking listening to me, bastard?"

Antonio's gaze quickly shifted to the furious man in front of him as he rubbed his cheek sheepishly. He didn't care to mention the fact that he hadn't understood a word he just said. He had switched to Italian against his knowledge. "Lo Siento, Lovi."

"I told you not to _fucking_ call me that," Lovino snapped.

"But I thought you said-"

The Italian cut him off. "You can't call me 'Lovi' right now. I'm fucking mad at you," he growled as his pacing resumed. He was only moving for a moment before his rant continued full force. "God fucking dammit, Antonio-"

Lovino turned quickly on his heel to face him. The Spaniard stilled. This was only the second time the boy had ever said his name. The first was during an intimate moment. The second, however, was filled with so much anger and fury ... and pain? Lovino said it with such raw passion that it had Antonio rooted to his spot.

"-You can't just take on the world by yourself! Only a complete idiot, someone keen on getting themselves killed- Only someone so _selfish_ would try and take on the world by themselves. Why did you feel the need to handle all of your problems on your own? Bella is here for you! _You_ even said this isn't the first time she's patched up your bumps and bruises and cuts. What made you think that this time would be any different? She'd give her life before she'd let you die! And I thought _I_ was _pretty fucking clear_ on how I felt about you. If you hadn't noticed, I've been particularly open with you, more than I have with anyone else I've cared this _fucking_ much about. I _fucking_ danced with you, another _man_ despite all of my better judgment! I think I was _pretty fucking open._ "

Lovino's voice cracked under those last three words, and Antonio wanted nothing more than to pull him into a bone crushing hug. Something inside of him, however, left him paralyzed. He watched as tears brewed in Lovino's eyes.

"You're a fucking bastard."

As Lovino fell silent, forcing back his tears with all of the power he possessed, Antonio took the time to look at him; _really_ look at him. His lips were set in that oh too familiar scowl. His brows were furrowed intensely. His posture was rigid as he stood staring Antonio down with utter vehemence and loathing. It was as if they had traveled back in time to when they had first met. He looked so cross with the Captain, and, God, did he wish the boy wouldn't cry. His beautiful amber eyes were ringed red and moist with unshed tears.

Antonio raised his bandaged hand to Lovino's cheek, allowing the pad of his thumb to gently caress just below his eye. He skin was suddenly damp with tears. "Lovino, please don't cry-" he started, only to be cut off by the boy's angry retorts.

"I'm not fucking crying. I'm not a sissy like you," he snapped, stepping away from Antonio's touch. He wiped furiously at his eyes in an attempt to dash away those unshed tears. "You just scared the living shit out of me, Bastard. Did you think at all about how I felt? Maybe I just wanted a friend to help me sort all of this out! Bella knows you damn well, and she can help me sort out this fucked up mess that is my head. I was _terrified_ when you collapsed. _Terrified_. And to think it was because you were too _jealous_ to admit that you were injured."

Antonio stared at Lovino with a stern eye. He spoke with as steady of a voice as he could muster. "I don't care what happens to me at this point. I only care about you."

Lovino scowled at Antonio and turned away from. His pacing once again resumed at a further distance than before. His fingers were clenched in tight, white fists at his sides. He was obviously thinking a lot harder than before. Antonio silently cursed himself. He had said something wrong, hadn't he? He shouldn't have said that...

"You're all stitched up, Toni. Don't you dare move too much or you'll rip those stitches right open," Bella ordered, breaking the sudden silence. In the commotion with Lovino, he had hardly noticed his first mate stitching off the rest of his wound. This was the distraction he had needed. "Lovino, wrap him up for me. I'm going to try and find some wine to dull the pain. Knowing Francis, he's got something stashed..."

Bella's voice trailed off as she exited Antonio's cabin and shut the door behind her. Lovino took the opportunity of her absence to approach him. He picked up a roll of fabric from the desk beside Antonio. The Spaniard sat a bit straighter and placed his injured hand on the top of his head with the other. The boy slowly wrapped the fabric around his tanned chest.

There was an uncomfortable silence between them that left the air around Antonio feeling thick and strenuous. Neither seemed to want to speak to try and clear the waters between them. The metaphorical wounds they had carved were still too fresh to try and talk over.

Antonio was the first to break the silence. "I mean it, Lovino. I care about you more than myself. Why is that so wrong?"

The boy had a passive expression on his face. It was as if he had dropped all emotion from his thoughts as he focused on his task at hand. For the first time, no matter how hard he tried, Antonio could not read his eyes. They were devoid of all feeling. There was no telling this time around. Lovino had closed him off. The silence continued to hang there until Lovino finished wrapping Antonio's wounds.

"If you cared, you wouldn't risk yourself. You wouldn't try to make me love you and good off to get yourself killed. But you're foolish. You always have been. You risk yourself to save me when I don't necessarily need saving. One of these days you're going to get yourself killed. And now that you've succeeded in making me love you, the day that you die is the day that I cease truly living."

Lovino then turned and left the room without another word. He left Antonio to his thoughts and his confusion.

How had he managed to anger the Italian each time they interacted was beyond him. He was damn good at pissing the man off to say the very least. It seemed to be his specialty, one that surpassed his ability to sail and wreak havoc on the seas.

Antonio slowly pulled himself off of his desk and dragged himself over to his bed. He collapsed on the worn down mattress and stared at the ceiling as the lamplight slowly waned. He mulled over Lovino's words.

The boy was quite capable. He could handle himself. Even in a crisis such as a brutal Caribbean storm, he had managed to survive. He could keep himself upright as far as Antonio could tell. He didn't _need_ the constant surveillance the Captain was so keen on providing. Lovino could care for himself. Antonio, on the other hand, had to focus more on himself. He didn't want to extinguish that fire that blazed so brilliantly in Lovino as a result from his unprecedented and untimely death. Even as he lived on in the Heavens, he was sure he'd never be able to fathom to watch that flame flicker and fade into nothing. The mere thought of someone as strong as him living the rest of his life without truly living was heartbreaking.

But there was something else that Lovino had said that captured the entirety of his attention.

 _Now that you've succeeded in making me love you..._

Lovino _loved_ him. Lovino, the scowling little Italian he had swept away from home had managed to fall in love with him. And Antonio had managed to muck it up with his jealousy and pride. There was a reason those emotions were two of the seven deadliest sins. They changed a man into something unbearable. He had _hurt_ Lovino, and in the final moments of consciousness, he only wondered how he was going to right this.


End file.
